Good Intentions
by fogisbeautiful
Summary: The highly-anticipated "Age of Ultron" sequel! A lot has happened since the Avengers last saved the world: Threats faced, secrets revealed, lies told, love found (and lost). Now, as the hunt for the Chitauri scepter drags on, previous loyalties and past trauma clash, threatening to make life at Avengers Tower awkward at best. Turns out, good intentions can only get you so far...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Welcome, one and all! This is an Age of Ultron fanfiction, set about six months or so before the events of the movie. There are a few fun twists and turns here that I don't want to spoil too soon, so I'll let you jump right in. But if you get confused, don't fear! Just hop to the bottom of the chapter (it's not very long) and all will be explained! For now, enjoy!

 _ **Good Intentions**_

 **Chapter One**

 _The room was quiet. Columns rose up in a dimly glowing maze, flickering fires in their braziers throwing more shadow than the light they cast. Everything was hammered, brushed gold, even the man sitting upon the curving throne, dressed in armor that looked odd upon his thin frame, as if he were trying to fill it with only the power of his will. His pale hand gripped a golden staff and the other cradled his head, his hair escaping his fingers in black tendrils that gleamed in the firelight. He looked as if he could be sleeping. Or hiding. Yes, hiding from a world that didn't want to see him, that didn't want to recognize what he was._

 _She approached the dais and mounted the steps, her footsteps making no sound on the gleaming marble. She wasn't really here. Some barely conscious part of her mind told her that, and yet she couldn't quite make herself believe it. It looked real. It certainly felt real. She reached the second step and stopped, one foot above, one foot below. The figure on the throne heaved his narrow shoulders, as if in a deep sigh. Then he looked up._

 _He wasn't at all the way she remembered him. His hair was longer. His face had furrows in it that she didn't recall. His eyes were red-not red-rimmed, not bloodshot, but true crimson all the way through. His skin wasn't pale, as she had thought, but blue, a deep azure swirled with patterns of raised lines. But his smile...that was exactly as she remembered: toothy, arrogant, cool and sure. The smile of a god._

 _The smile widened and his lips parted, his voice echoing in the empty hall and in her head._

 _"Hello, Miss Ripley."_

Alice sat straight up in bed with a gasp, sucking in air as if coming up from underwater. She gripped her wrist, feeling the metal of her parents' wedding rings bite into her skin through the leather straps tying them together. Her heart stuttered and then settled in her chest. She took another breath, a little more controlled, and let go of her wrist, instead reaching out until her hand touched a warm shoulder-shaped lump in the dark. She let her hand rest there, breathing deeply. Bruce hadn't been there when she'd gone to bed. It was nice to know he hadn't passed out in the lab at least. He did that sometimes and it made her worry, even though she knew there was no use trying to stop him.

She squeezed his shoulder once and turned to get out of bed. He rolled over and mumbled sleepily, "Y'lright?"

She smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Yeah," she whispered, running her fingers through his curls, "Just want some tea. Go back to sleep."

He muttered something unintelligible and relaxed back into the pillows, his face smoothing as he slipped back into sleep. She waited a minute to be sure before she got up and padded out of the door, letting it close with a soft whoosh of air. She made her way on bare feet down the hall and into the elevator, punching the button for Floor 56, where the penthouse kitchen was. It was a long way up from the eighteenth floor where she and Bruce were staying, but the trip seemed to take almost no time. She barely even felt the elevator move as it came to a stop and chimed, the doors sliding open on the dimly lit lounge area. She padded to the kitchen and took down a pot from one of the cabinets, filling it with water before putting it on the stove. She pulled down the chai she kept mixed in a glass jar and a mug, setting them on the counter as she waited for the water to simmer. She glanced up.

The balcony on this floor took up most of one side of the building, on the other side of a wall of picture windows overlooking the New York skyline. It was still dark out, the lights of the city ever moving below. And someone stood out there on the balcony, the breeze tossing her blonde curls around her. The dream flashed again through Alice's mind and she shuddered. She hadn't had a bad dream about Loki in months, but it made sense now, considering the...well, she didn't want to call it a fight. It was more of a shocking realization that some people had not taken very well. Some people being Clint, mostly.

 _"He took hundreds of innocent lives! Does that mean nothing to you people?!"_

To be fair, Tony hadn't been all that thrilled either, and Nat, of course, had sided with her best friend. Thor had been shouting, and when the wind started to pick up _inside_ the Tower, Bruce had suggested they table the discussion until Steve came back from his mission. Clint had stormed off with Nat on his heels, Tony had locked himself in his workshop, and Bruce had disappeared into his lab, which had been the last Alice had seen of him until just a few sleepy minutes ago. Alice hadn't known what to say. She still didn't. After all, the others had a valid point. Loki had killed a lot of people. And he had mind-controlled Clint. Alice liked Clint. He was a good guy, his anger was not unwarranted.

But none of these things were Klara's fault. Sure, she'd looked after Loki on Asgard. She may have even gotten close to him, cared about him, not wanted an angry mob to kill him in cold blood. But was that any more or less than Thor? He was Loki's brother, albeit adopted, and he had made it pretty clear that he still cared about him. And nobody was calling Thor a traitor or questioning his loyalties. Who were they to judge, any of them?

Alice reached into the cabinet and pulled down a second mug.

* * *

It was so noisy here.

Not just here, in the city of New York, but everywhere Klara had been on Midgard seemed noisy, busy, frantic. As if the people knew their time was short and so were trying to be heard as quickly as possible, trying to make their mark on the universe before they were no longer able.

 _"He took hundreds of innocent lives! Does that mean nothing to you people?"_

She shut her eyes and let the breeze sweep over her, taking in the strange smells of smoke and fuel and stale air. Even the smells were noisy. It hadn't been so in Greenwich. It was noisy there too, but the air at least was fresh. There was too much in New York, everything compressed together and pushed upward to fit.

Would she ever fit here? Was there room in this busy, noisy world for her? She felt small, smaller than usual. Midgard was larger than she had imagined it to be. Asgard had always felt safely contained, but Midgardians spread themselves to the farthest corners of their world. She felt like an imposition, even before...

"Chai?"

She opened her eyes in surprise. Alice Ripley, the small Midgardian girl with the short brown hair and the big, dark eyes, was standing beside her, holding out a mug of steaming liquid. Klara took the mug out of polite habit and peered at its contents. It was a creamy brown and smelled like spice and comfort.

"It's tea," Miss Ripley said, taking a sip from her own mug, "In Kolkata, you learn to love it or you die of thirst. Luckily, I'm a fast learner."

She grinned at her own joke, something Klara imagined she did often. She had a face built for smiling. Klara took her own careful sip and her mouth exploded with flavors, even as the smooth texture slid easily down her throat to sit warm in her chest. The girl was watching her, waiting for a reaction, so Klara smiled, an expression that she didn't even have to force onto her face.

"Thank you," she said and meant it more than her words could convey. After all, the girl did not have to be here, especially not after the...unpleasantness earlier.

Miss Ripley shrugged her narrow, sun-browned shoulders and took another sip of her drink, gesturing toward the brightly lit city below.

"Jet lag?"

Klara furrowed her brow for a moment, cupping her fingers around the warm mug. She recognized the term Midgardians used for travel fatigue. It reminded her fondly of Darcy Lewis and her enthusiasm for explaining Midgardian references and popular culture. It was difficult to be melancholy when Darcy was about. Klara missed her.

"The nights are shorter on Asgard," Klara said, gathering her thoughts, "And working odd hours at the palace was commonplace. One never knew when one might be needed."

 _"No one touches one of mine..."_

Klara flinched and took another sip of her tea. She had not meant to think of him. Not now, not when things were so... difficult. But he snuck up on her at the strangest moments, his voice whispering in her ear at the most inconvenient times. Just as he would have done, had he...

Her hands were shaking. She clenched them tighter around the mug, trying to make them stop. She did not dare look up to see if Miss Ripley noticed. The girl didn't say anything for a long moment.

"I met him once, you know."

Klara blinked and looked up. The girl was leaning back against the balcony railing, one bare foot crossed over a flannel-clad calf, staring into her own mug.

"He was...charismatic, I guess would be the word for it," she continued, swirling the liquid in the bottom of her cup, "I mean, even when he was...I don't know. I guess what I'm trying to say is I get it, kind of. I mean, I'm the last person on Earth, or _anywhere_ really, to throw stones in glass houses. Let's be honest, I'm sharing living quarters with a guy who could bring this whole building down on a bad day."

She looked up at Klara and smiled again at her attempted humor.

"The others," she said, gesturing back toward the quiet tower, "They'll come around. Clint's good people, he just-"

"I don't blame him," Klara said, looking down into her mug and realizing the steam was no longer rising.

"I know," Miss Ripley agreed, "I'm just saying...don't give up on us, alright? We're not always jerks and assholes."

Klara looked up, startled at the coarse language, but the girl didn't seem to notice. Instead, she was staring back toward the tower, her elbows sticking out over the railing, the wind ruffling her short hair. Klara looked back out over the city and sipped at the last of her tea. She could almost feel the unseen stars looking down on them.

" _The stars knew not where their stations were..."_

She shut her eyes and let the words blow away with the wind.

* * *

 **A/N** : YAY! \o/ So, if you've made it all the way to the bottom here, you're probably either very excited or very confused. Allow me to explain: this fic is the highly anticipated sequel to, not just one, but _two_ of my Marvel fics. That's right, folks, I full-on 'MCU'ed this bitch ;P

So, for clarification, if you haven't read "Worth Living For" (my Bruce/Alice "Avengers" fic, and its accompanying short sequel "Paradise Found") or "Clarity" (my Loki/Klara "Thor: The Dark World" fic), I _highly_ recommend you read both of those first. They're not super long, and I believe it'll be worth it to you. You can try to read this on its own if you want, but it won't be nearly as fun that way :P

I've seriously been looking forward to this ever since I wrote "Clarity", so this is gonna be a lot of fun! Updates will be every Wednesday (barring unforeseen circumstances), so you can add that to your calendars. I'm so looking forward to sharing this story with you, I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The coffee burned her tongue, but Alice didn't even look up from her book as she took a sip and set it down. The lab was quiet, nothing but the soft humming of machines and the occasional swish of fabric as Bruce moved from one instrument to another. It was why she liked studying here. The only distraction was Bruce and, (even though after nearly two years she still found him very distracting) he was really good at keeping her on task. She hadn't even realized that she was staring at him, watching him tap some algorithm on the semi-transparent screen, until he spoke.

"Need me to quiz you?"

She frowned at him. He didn't look up from the screen he was tapping on, but he smirked as if he could feel her irritation. She sighed and sat back with her coffee.

"Hit me."

He adjusted his glasses on his nose and squinted at the information scrolling across his screen. "Where are we, pulmonary?"

"Vasculitis."

"Ah," he said, shoving a hand through his hair and tapping a few times on his screen. A graph popped up and he manipulated some of the data. "Okay. Patient with a diagnosis of polyarteritis nodosa. What are the clinical signs consistent with the diagnosis?"

Crap. Alice took another sip of her coffee, playing for time.

"Um," she said, trying to see the answer in her head, "Hypertension." Bruce nodded, turning to a notebook on the table in front of him and making a note. "Chest pain. Neuro...no, _peripheral_ neuropathy, and...um..."

She stalled out. She couldn't think of the last one. It was hemo-something, she just couldn't-

"Need a hint?" Bruce was looking at her now, smiling sympathetically. She clenched her teeth.

"No, I got it," she said, regretting that she sounded so frustrated, "It's, um, hemoptysis, right?"

She could tell right away that was wrong. It was the little furrow between his eyes, the way his smile faltered just for a second.

"Hematochezia," he corrected.

Alice groaned and dropped her head down onto her open book.

"Crap, I knew it was something like that," she mumbled, "It was right there, on the tip of my tongue, my brain just didn't want to...brain."

"The brain needs adequate recuperation to operate at maximum capacity," Bruce said, poking at his screen again, calling up a few whirling images and graphs, "You didn't sleep well last night."

"I slept okay," Alice protested.

Bruce gave her a look over his glasses and she shifted in her seat.

"I had a bad dream, that's all." She waved at the screen in front of him. "All this Chitauri scepter stuff, it just... You know?"

God, she was the queen of articulation and poise today, wasn't she? But Bruce only nodded, staring at his screen, at the numbers running in precise columns around the image of the scepter rotating in the center.

"Yeah, I know," he said, flicking the picture away, "I thought we were done with this too."

"Does it ever feel like-?" She cut herself off, but Bruce looked at her as if she had spoken the rest in his head, clear as a bell.

"Yeah," he said, "Sometimes."

She realized she was spinning her parents' rings around and around her wrist and forced herself to stop. She took a breath, shook out her hands like a prize fighter getting ready for another bout, and picked up her pen.

"Okay," she said, poised over her paper, "I got this. Hit me again."

His smile brightened and he threw another question at her. She got that one wrong too. And the next one. And the one after that.

"Crap, crap, _crap,_ " she muttered, hitting her head against the book over and over, "Remind me again why I wanted to go back to school?"

"You wanted to help people?" Bruce offered, leaning back against the lab table and taking off his glasses to clean them on the tail of his shirt.

"Pepper helps people, she didn't have to go through all this NCLEX BS," Alice said, frowning down at her book and picking up her coffee again. It was finally cool enough not to burn her tongue.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Do you really want to deal with Pepper's particular brand of BS?"

Alice rolled her eyes, "Point taken. And speak of the devil-"

The glass doors slid open and Tony Stark sauntered into the lab, covered in engine grease and looking like he might have slept in his clothes from the night before, but still somehow managing to look smug about it.

"Hey man, I think I fixed that sequencing problem we were having in production. Veronica is back on again!" He slapped Bruce on the shoulder and finally seemed to notice Alice sitting in the corner. "Oh, hey Alice. How's the book work going?"

"Great," she said, trying not to sound sarcastic, but Tony was the king of sarcasm. He knew it like a second language.

"That good, huh?" he said, crossing his arms on the table in front of her and pressing up onto his toes to look down into her textbook, "You know, I could talk to some people, get you some of that real-world experience-"

"I already _have_ real-world experience," she said sharply, thinking back to Kolkata, setting broken legs, pulling bullets out of shoulders, treating case after case of malaria.

"It's the terminology, that's all," Bruce said in her defense, "It takes a little getting used to."

" _You_ didn't have any issues," Alice grumbled looking down at her book again to avoid his eyes, "You memorized the practice tests like they were nothing."

"I worked in biology for years," Bruce countered gently, "I had to know a lot of this stuff to do my job."

Alice sighed and turned a page. She knew that. She was just grouchy. It felt like she was never getting anywhere. She clenched her jaw and shut the book with a note of finality, picking up her coffee mug and turning her attention to the two men in the room, her eyes flicking back and forth between them with cheery interest.

"So," she said, "Veronica? Does Pepper know about this newest conquest, Tony?"

To her surprise, Tony flinched and stepped back. "Not...yet. She's been busy, you know, running a company? I haven't had a chance to fill her in."

Alice felt bad. She had been kidding, she hadn't meant to hit a sore spot.

"It's a new suit," Bruce said, his hands worrying together for a second before he seemed to realize and shoved them into the pockets of his lab coat, "A big one that fits over the original."

"Oh," Alice said, blinking, "That's...cool. What would you use it for though?"

They both gave her a pointed look. And she realized _exactly_ what they would use it for.

"Oh." She said again, setting her coffee down, "Oh. The Other Guy."

"Yeah," Tony said, poking Bruce in the side, making him jump and roll his eyes, "Big Green over here. You know, just in case."

Alice hated these conversations. The "just in case" conversations. They always made Bruce moody, uncomfortable, nervous. She took a sip of her coffee. It was getting cold.

"So, why Veronica?" she asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Didn't you ever read Archie?" Tony asked, latching onto her conversation changer like a drowning man, "It was always Betty versus Veronica!"

Another silent dead weight dropped over the room, one that Tony seemed to realize he'd created a second later than everyone else. Bruce wouldn't meet her eyes now, staring at a spot underneath one of the steel lab tables. Alice tried one more time to change the subject.

"What about that thing we talked about before?" she asked, "The non-violent option?"

"It's too dangerous," Bruce said immediately, still not looking at her, "Unpredictable."

"But it's not," Alice insisted, "I mean, not as much as he used to be, right? You said so yourself, he's getting better. If we could just talk to him-"

But Bruce was already shaking his head, and Tony shrugged when Alice turned to him for support.

"We haven't been able to get any reliable readings of the Big Guy, so it's hard to tell what's going on in there," he said, "Until we can get some definitive proof that there's a significant difference in his understanding or physiology, we can't be sure. Brute force is the only thing that we _know_ will work. You know, eventually."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his oil-stained jeans. Alice frowned and took another sip of her cold coffee. She didn't like this. She didn't like that they wouldn't discuss other options. She was just about to voice her strong dislike when the doors slid open again, and Clint poked his head into the lab.

"Hey," he said, pointing at Alice, "Wheels up in ten."

Then he was gone, almost as fast as he'd come.

"Shit," Alice muttered, packing her books and papers into a bag and throwing it over her shoulder, "This oughta be interesting."

"Hey."

Bruce slipped past Tony and took her by the arm, stopping her from fleeing the lab immediately. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Be careful," he said, brushing her hair back from her eyes. Alice smiled. She couldn't help it.

"Yeah, I will."

She readjusted her bag on her shoulder before she shot through the door.

"Good hunting!" Tony chirped after her. She flipped him the bird over her shoulder as she took off running for the elevator.

* * *

Alice loved flying. It was one of only two things in the world she could say with absolutely no hesitation. She loved watching the world fall away, knowing that (if she wanted to) she could go anywhere, do anything. It was the perfect scratch for her itchy feet.

She banked right over the New York skyline and headed out toward the Upper Bay, staying clear of the JFK traffic lanes. She was sure Clint had cleared them for flight, but it didn't make sense to take chances. She leveled out over the water and headed south toward open water.

"Follow the coastline," Clint said over her shoulder, "We'll make a loop around the island."

Alice banked again, keeping the land on her left, the water on her right, and leveled out, checking the instruments to make sure there was nothing amiss. Then she sat back in the seat, her shoulders relaxing now that the hard part was over.

"So," she said, adjusting her grip on the steering, "You okay?"

Clint didn't answer for so long, Alice actually turned to look up at him. There was no expression on his face. That was slightly worrying. Clint was one of the nicest, friendliest, expressive people she knew. Not that her realm of experience was that wide, but still, it was worrying.

"Yeah," he said finally, shifting to a crouch beside her so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to see him, "Yeah, I'm good."

Alice turned back to the instrument panel and made a course adjustment without being told.

"You sure?" she asked, "You didn't seem so good last night."

Last night had been pretty awful, actually. She had never seen Clint so mad about anything. Ever. Come to think of it, she had never seen him any less than friendly with everyone he came into contact with. To see him openly hostile was...unsettling.

There was another, slightly shorter pause.

"Yeah," he said, "Nat says I need some time off."

"Nat's not wrong," Alice said, edging the jet over to keep them in sight of land, "When was the last time you took a vacation?"

"Last year," he said, "Early April."

Alice winced. Early April...when SHIELD had come crashing down, and the world along with it. The first time Alice had felt truly afraid in the Tower. The first time since meeting Bruce that she'd gotten itchy feet. She mentally shook off the unpleasant feeling and rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said, "It's not like _every_ time you take a vacation the world ends. You weren't on vacation in 2012."

A smile twitched his lips and that made Alice feel a little better.

"You need at least twenty more hours of flight time before your exam and you want me to take some R&R?"

"My test can wait," Alice pointed out, "It's not going anywhere. And Tony can keep me in practice while you're gone."

"Tony's gonna get you killed," Clint said, and he didn't even sound like he was joking, "Worse, he's gonna make you fail your flight test."

"Priorities, Clint. Your priorities could use some work," Alice said, smirking up at him.

"Yeah well, I'm not the only one."

He seemed to realize the implications of what he'd said just a second or two after he'd said it. His expression shut down again, bland, distant, not like Clint at all. Alice bit her lip and considered her next words carefully.

"Klara doesn't seem _all_ bad, right?" Clint didn't answer her. "I mean, Thor trusts her. That has to count for something."

Silence. Long, empty, silence.

"...You're drifting. Watch your lines."

* * *

The Tower was so peaceful at night.

During the day, Klara could not help but feel out of place, a burden to everyone she came in contact with, even Lord Thor. Especially Lord Thor. Because, despite her assurances to him that she was perfectly alright, she knew he could sense how much of a lie it was. It was unnerving sometimes, how well he seemed to know her. Other times, it made perfect sense, considering...

Klara shuddered and wrapped her arms around her. The wind was getting chill, the year growing late and the nights long. It had been nearly a year since she'd learned the truth of her birth and she still could not bring herself to think on it, much less speak of it. Not even to Lord Thor, though he had more right than most to hear it. She could not bear to turn his world upside down yet again. And to speak the truth aloud, it would be like speaking it into existence. So long as it remained only in the deepest, darkest part of her mind, she could pretend that it had never happened. That nothing had changed. Well...nothing but the most brutal of truths, at least.

 _No longer mourn for me when I am dead..._

Klara turned and stepped back inside, out of the wind. As soon as the glass doors shut, it was like the world outside had put on a warm blanket. All that was left were the twinkling lights of the sprawling city below. It was as near to Asgard as Klara felt she had ever been. London had been close. But it wasn't quite like this.

She padded into the dining area, running her fingers along the backs of the plain wooden chairs, against the gleaming tabletop. She paused, her memory assaulted by harsh words and angry gestures.

 _What do you mean, she cared for him?_

 _He was my brother!_

 _He took hundreds of lives!_

She shut her eyes and clasped her hands tightly behind her back, just as she had the night before. Other words had been exchanged, but she hadn't heard them. She had only heard the same words that had echoed against the marble halls of the palace for so long, as if they were tethered to every beat of her heart.

 _...traitor...prince...monster...son..._

"Hello."

Her eyes flew open and she jerked back, catching at the edge of the table to keep from stumbling. A man stood in the dim light of the sitting area, a bag slung over one shoulder, fair hair falling over-cautious, but not unfriendly eyes. That was how she knew she had not met him yet. The eyes, curious but not hostile. His hand was partially outstretched to her, like one might gesture to a small, startled animal.

"Whoa," he said, his voice smooth, calm, restrained, "Easy. Didn't mean to scare you."

Klara swallowed and pulled herself together, setting her shoulders and clasping her hands behind her again, before dipping into a well-practiced curtsy.

"My apologies," she said, in her best servant's tone, "I wasn't aware anyone else would be awake at this hour."

The man raised one eyebrow and a smile touched the corner of his mouth. The light from the city shone on his face.

"Asgardian?"

She blinked and stiffened slightly in surprise. But then she considered how she was dressed, her servants' tunic and leggings, so different from the strange materials worn here on Midgard. She relaxed again, dipping her head in acknowledgment.

"My name is Klara," she said, nearly wincing at how stiff the words sounded in her ears, "I am handmaiden to Lord Thor."

"Handmaiden?" he said, stepping up into the dining area and lifting the bag over his head to rest on the table, "What, do you do his hair in the mornings?"

Despite her resolve, Klara felt her lips twitch upward and she quickly dropped her head to conceal it.

"I do whatever Lord Thor requires of me," she said, "Though he has not yet asked for my assistance in styling his hair."

The man chuckled, a rolling sound that came from his chest and set Klara at ease despite herself. He approached her in two long strides and held out his hand to her.

"Steve Rogers."

Ah. So this was the Captain. Lord Thor had told her about him briefly, but he had been away for several days, on a mission of some kind. He had missed... everything. Her rise and fall, in the space of a day. Should she tell him? Should she stop this pretense at friendly camaraderie, this play that she was anything less than the friend of his enemy? She looked down at his hand, then up into his eyes. They were blue and open and glowing with earnest goodwill. And she could not bear to dim that light. Not now. Not when it might be the last light she saw for a very long time.

 _The moon knew not what might was his..._

She reached out and tentatively took his hand, warm and smooth and strong. He did not soften his grip for her benefit as Klara had discovered some men did. Nor did he make any showy flourishes as Tony Stark had done, kissing her hand and speaking some garbled version of what he thought to be Asgardian vernacular. Before he had known who she was, and what she had done.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain," Klara said, and she genuinely meant it.

His smile widened. Klara thought perhaps that smile could light and warm a system of planets, all on its own.

"Reputation precedes me, I see," he said, squeezing her hand briefly before releasing it, "Any friend of Thor's, Klara, the pleasure is mine."

Klara dropped her hand and clasped it behind her once more. She knew that wasn't true. She had heard it so many times, and it had been proven false too often for her to believe it. But it was a lie spoken in kindness and she couldn't fault him for it. She dropped another small curtsy.

"I will leave you to your rest," she said, "I'm sure you've had a long journey. Good night, Captain."

And before he could protest or deflect, she slipped past him, her steps sure and long, until she finally reached the sliding door of the elevator car and safety.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The next morning at breakfast, it became clear that Captain Rogers had been informed of Klara's situation. Lord Thor continued (despite the obvious resentment of his teammates) to insist that Klara accompany him for meals, and only moments after their arrival, Captain Rogers was asking the prince for a private word in a stern and decidedly neutral tone. He did not look at Klara at all. Klara could not bring herself to blame him. She could not bring herself to blame any of them, not even Clint Barton. _Especially_ Clint Barton. What Loki had done to him was unforgivable, inexcusable, and had left scars too deep to see, but no less painful. She did not blame him in the least for his resentment, though Lord Thor maintained that his behavior was still uncalled for. The truth was, Klara had been called much worse on Asgard.

 _...traitor's whore..._

She took her toast back to her room and remained there until Lord Thor summoned her to his quarters for the noonday meal. Though he did not mention his discussion with Captain Rogers, his expression was pensive, which told Klara far more than his words might have.

When she stood to take her leave of him, Klara asked from well-worn habit, "Is there anything my lord requires?"

He looked at her then, looked at her as she always feared to be looked at, with worry and puzzlement and a fondness that she did not deserve. He looked at her with eyes that saw _her_ , not a mere maidservant.

"Are you happy, Klara?"

The question took her aback and she straightened reflexively, hands clasping behind her, her jaw tightening.

"I am well, my lord."

"That is not what I asked." When she did not reply, the prince sighed and dropped his gaze, passing a hand over his brow. "You need not stay here, you know, if you are unhappy."

She stiffened. Would he send her back to Asgard? Back to the whispers, and the rumor-mongering, and the quiet silence of the dead that lingered in every spare breath of air, in every empty room, in every darkened dungeon? Back to Elli?

 _You were born to be loved..._

Some of her panic must have shown in her eyes because Lord Thor rose in alarm and came to her, his large hands grasping her shoulders as if he feared she might fall.

"Of course, you needn't go to Jane if you don't wish it," he said, "Though I am sure she would be glad to have you, you need do nothing that you do not wish, Klara."

Jane. Jane Foster. The name alone relaxed Klara's trembling stiffness and she let out a shaky breath. Jane and her team of Midgardian scientists had remained in London, still studying the effects of the Convergence on the mortal plane. She gathered that it was exciting work, from the way the girl's eyes lit up and the rapidity of her incomprehensible speech when she was discussing it. But Klara had very little idea of what the work _actually_ entailed. She would be useless to them.

She did miss Darcy Lewis, though. One could not help missing Darcy, with her sunny smile and strange way of taking everything in humorous stride. Darcy Lewis had never looked at her and seen a traitor. Darcy Lewis had once saved her life.

She pushed aside these thoughts and met Lord Thor's eyes with perfect sincerity.

"I am bound to your service, my lord," she said, "As I was bound to your mother. I assure you, I am quite content to remain by your side until you should send me away."

Mention of Lady Frigga brought a shadow of grief to his expression, but he quickly replaced it with a smile and squeezed her shoulders.

"Very well," he said, "If that is what you wish, I would not send you from me. I only want you to know that you are not so bound that I am not concerned for your well-being. I would see you happy, Klara, if I can."

Klara managed to return his smile, trying to convey that, as far as it was within his power, she was indeed happy.

That night, Klara did not leave her room. She hid away from the watching stars and wept.

* * *

Bruce came to bed late again, but Alice was still awake and she turned to meet him as he slid into bed beside her.

"I'm worried," she said, without preamble.

Bruce sighed and slid further under the covers, pillowing his head on his arm and meeting her eyes in the dark.

"About what?" he asked, with unfeigned interest and no sign that he was tired at all. It was so endearing that Alice could not help but lean forward and kiss him. It lingered pleasantly for a little longer than she had meant it to before she pulled back and settled on her side again, mirroring his posture.

"What do you think Steve's gonna do about Klara?" she asked.

Bruce shrugged his bare shoulder. "Probably nothing. What do you think he should do?"

Alice shrugged back, but she bit her lip unhappily. "I don't like how everyone's treating her. I mean, I get it, I guess. Especially Clint. But..."

She trailed off, trying to put her thoughts together.

"We shouldn't be defined by our pasts," she said finally, "Any of us. I just keep thinking, if someone would give her a chance...I mean, nobody's perfect, right?"

Bruce huffed a laugh and pulled her close.

"Yeah," he said, "Nobody's perfect. I guess that explains why you like her so much. You both have the same fatal flaw."

"Falling for powerful, devilishly handsome men?" Alice asked, smirking.

"You think Loki was handsome?"

She punched him playfully in the shoulder and he laughed again, she could feel it vibrating through his chest.

"I do like her," Alice said, almost apologetically, "Or at least, I don't want her to be miserable. I definitely don't want to think that people I like are the ones _making_ her miserable. There's gotta be something someone can do."

Bruce sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Sometimes there's nothing to do but wait," he said, "And hope for the best." Alice frowned at that and Bruce smiled. "I know you're not good at waiting."

"Or hoping for the best," Alice agreed, biting her lip again.

Bruce pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"It'll all work out, Alice," he whispered, "One way or another. Just be patient, and you'll see."

Alice didn't argue with him. But she was still awake when Bruce's breathing had slowed and deepened, the cold metal of her parents' rings sliding across her skin as she turned them around and around her wrist.

* * *

"Movie night?"

Klara regarded Miss Ripley with undisguised admiration as she merely smiled at Tony Stark's incredulous outburst. The girl was hugging a box wrapped in colorful paper, with big block letters across the front proclaiming "MOVIE NIGHT SUGGESTION BOX" in black ink. The dining area was at full complement this morning, everyone present and eyeing the box with varying degrees of skepticism. Dr. Banner alone looked unsurprised, sipping his coffee with a playful fondness that made him seem years younger. It looked well on him.

"Yes," Miss Ripley confirmed, "Movie night!"

Tony Stark rolled his eyes, not with unkindness, but more as a matter of principle, as if it were his job, as her friend, to inform her that she was making a terrible mistake. Alice Ripley ignored him.

"The idea is for everyone who has a suggestion to toss it into the box, and every couple of weeks we'll pull one out and watch it together. No porn, Tony, don't be an asshole."

Captain Rogers snorted into his coffee and Mister Stark dropped his upraised hand with a faux-expression of dejection. Klara glanced at Lord Thor. He smiled at her around a mouthful of breakfast pastry (what the Midgardians called a "Pop-Tart") and she managed a tentative smile in return.

"It'll be fun!" Miss Ripley continued, undeterred, "It'll give everyone a chance to relax, hang out, get to know each other. You can learn a lot about a person from the movies they like. Steve, I know you've got a list, maybe we can check some of those off."

Klara deliberately did _not_ look at Captain Rogers as Miss Ripley addressed him, staring into her mug of tea instead.

"What if we can't make it to movie night?"

Klara had to work hard not to wince at the undercurrent of hostility in Clint Barton's voice.

"Well, I..."

For the first time, Miss Ripley faltered, and Klara glanced up. The girl's enthusiasm appeared to be losing momentum in the face of this open hostility. Color rose to her cheeks and she dropped her gaze uncertainly to the box in her hands. "I mean, it's not _required_ , I just thought... You know, things have been so-"

"I think it's a great idea."

Klara could not help but glance at Captain Rogers then, feeling a swell of gratitude on Miss Ripley's behalf that was clearly reflected in the girl's surprised but grateful expression.

"Team building exercises are good for morale," he said, looking pointedly around the room, "And I think we can all agree that morale hasn't exactly been at its highest."

Everyone's gaze fell, so it wasn't obvious when Klara's eyes dropped back to her mug as well. The Avengers had been charged with finding a scepter, the weapon that had been used to lead the Chitauri in their deadly assault against Midgard. The scepter Loki had wielded.

 _That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect..._

Klara shut her eyes and gripped her mug a little tighter.

"We can use the rec room on Level 28," Mr. Stark said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "Go big or go home, am I right? Who doesn't love surround sound? I'll bring popcorn!"

Klara took a breath and opened her eyes in time to catch the relieved smile Miss Ripley tossed Dr. Banner. His expression of profound admiration made Klara's broken heart ache in her chest.

Clint Barton hopped from his perch on the back of the couch with surprising agility and headed for the elevator without speaking a word. Miss Romanov followed, slipping through the metal doors before he could stop her. Klara felt keenly aware of the fact that she could not make her own exit now, not with the elevator thus occupied. She looked down at her tea. It had gone cold.

A hand touched her shoulder. Lord Thor was smiling sympathetically at her. She gave him a smile of her own and took his empty coffee mug, turning to the shining sink piled up with dishes from the morning meal. She poured her own tea reluctantly down the drain and pushed up the sleeves of her tunic, starting the hot water and reaching for the bottle of dish soap.

"You know there's a dishwasher for that, right?"

Miss Ripley seemed to appear at her elbow out of nowhere, and Klara felt a knot she hadn't even realized was hiding her in chest loosen at the girl's kind smile. She braced herself against the emotion threatening to come up her throat and nodded, not even sparing a glance for the mentioned appliance.

"I am aware," she said, stoppering up one side of the sink and applying a drop of soap to the water, "I simply...I choose not to tempt fate in such matters."

Electricity did not work in the same way as magic, but it performed many of the same functions that magic had on Asgard. Klara found that she was hesitant to use any devices that utilized the power for fear that her unique flaw might assert itself at an inconvenient, or even dangerous, time. She had yet to attempt using the elevator with anyone but Lord Thor in the compartment with her.

"I hardly think using a kitchen appliance is tempting fate," Miss Ripley said, though she did not attempt to stop her, and even grabbed a dishtowel to begin the process of drying the flatware being placed in the rinse water, "I thought you Asgardians were advanced, anyway. You're scared of a dishwasher?"

Klara felt the corner of her mouth twitch up, but she suppressed the smile.

"Not afraid," she corrected gently, "We...used something very different in the palace, and it did not agree with me."

"Magic?"

Klara nodded. "Yes."

"That's gotta be so cool."

"I wouldn't know." Klara realized a second after she'd spoken that the words had come out rather more harshly than she'd intended. She dropped her head to hide her expression. "My apologies."

But Miss Ripley was already shaking her head, her pleasant demeanor not altered in the least.

"Nope, totally my fault," she said, drying a handful of cutlery and setting it aside, "I guess it would be pretty shitty, not being able to use something as common as electricity. Especially when you're surrounded by it. I mean, when I was in Queensland, it wasn't uncommon for the power to go out for days, so we didn't rely on anything that depended on it. Even in Kolkata, there were plenty of things I went without and didn't bat an eyelash. Now? I would probably die if there was a coffee maker on the counter and I couldn't use it."

Klara caught herself staring. This girl had barely lived twenty Midgardian years, and yet she had traveled the width and breadth of her realm with no hesitation and grown as much or more than many Asgardian nobles Klara had known with centuries more experience. Even Klara had been alive long before Alice Ripley's ancestors had walked the earth. How could such wisdom come from the mouth of one so young?

Dr. Banner stepped up beside the girl and leaned in to press his lips to her temple. Klara looked away and made herself busy draining the sink.

"I'm headed down to the lab," he said, "Love you."

"Love you too," Miss Ripley replied casually, but when Klara dared a glance up, she could see the glow of her smile, almost too bright to look at.

"See you, Klara."

Klara blinked, and it took a moment for her to regain her composure enough to even nod in acknowledgment of the casual farewell. Dr. Banner had spoken less than ten words to her in the time she had been in the Tower. She had honestly counted him among those who were none too pleased by her presence, despite Miss Ripley's pleasantries. Now she wondered if perhaps it was simply that the doctor didn't speak unless he had something to say. The idea was encouraging, and Klara felt her esteem for him rise in relation to it.

Miss Ripley's eyes followed him as he and Mr. Stark made their way toward the elevator, the more boisterous man speaking with animated enthusiasm about some theory he wished to put into practice as the quiet doctor listened patiently with his hands in his pockets. Klara smiled at the younger girl and turned back to wiping down the sink.

"He seems a kind man, your Dr. Banner," she said, thinking only a moment after she'd said it, that perhaps it was too forward.

But Miss Ripley only grinned more broadly as she finished arranging the last of the flatware into the drying rack.

"Yeah, he does alright, when he thinks about it," she said, wiping her hands on the dishtowel and handing it to Klara, "Sometimes he gets lost in his own world and forgets other people exist though. You gotta learn not to take it personally. It's a coping mechanism more than anything, helps him think and not get...frustrated."

Her sunny demeanor faltered for the briefest moment, but then lit up again as a new thought caught her attention.

"Hey, has anyone given you the grand tour?"

Klara wiped her hands and laid the dishtowel neatly on the bar to dry.

"I was given an overview of the Tower layout when I arrived, yes."

"No, I mean has anyone _actually_ shown you around?" she asked, eyes shining now, "You miss all the good bits if you just look at this place on a map. Like laser tag on Level 31. And Level 34 is _literally_ a giant water park. There are actual slides. Come on, I'll show you!"

In her enthusiasm, the girl took Klara by the arm and began to actually drag her toward the elevator doors. Klara tried to resist, but Miss Ripley was much stronger than she appeared and there was little she could do without digging her heels into the carpet.

"Miss Ripley, I'm not sure-"

"Alice."

Klara blinked. The girl turned that brilliant smile back on her.

"Call me Alice," she repeated, bouncing on her toes as they waited for the elevator.

Klara was so unexpectedly touched by this show of genuine companionship that she no longer had it in her to protest when the elevator doors slid open and Miss...and _Alice_ pulled her inside.

* * *

Something was definitely wrong with her.

Alice had settled into one of the Tower's empty offices for the afternoon, allegedly to study for a test she had coming up in her nursing course. There was plenty of space. Very little Stark business actually happened in the Tower anymore, and Maria didn't seem to mind. As long as everyone stayed out of Maria Hill's way, things went pretty smoothly on the lower levels of Avengers Tower. Babysitter she was not, but Alice didn't need to be babysat and Maria liked that about her, said it showed 'initiative', whatever that meant. Alice just smiled, and nodded, and took the office when it was offered, because sometimes she needed the space to be alone and concentrate.

But Alice had been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes now and hadn't taken in a single word she'd read. The movie night idea had been strange enough, so far out of her comfort zone that even Bruce had looked askance when she'd suggested it, before switching to an enthusiastic encouragement that had made it nearly impossible for Alice to back out. It was a big step, a step that Alice wasn't entirely sure she was ready to take. And now all she could think about was the conversation she'd had with Klara that morning, doing _dishes_ of all things.

 _Back in Queensland..._

Hell. It had been innocuous enough. She hadn't even come close to any of the important stuff. The problem was, she had _never_ talked about Australia with anyone but Bruce. Ever. The memory of that place, the loss of her innocent assumptions that anyone could ever understand her, it was just too painful. She didn't even like to _think_ about it too hard. Which was exactly what she was doing.

She heard a dull metallic sound and realized she was tapping her pen against the inside of her wrist, against her parents' wedding rings. She dropped the pen and sat back, twisting the leather straps so that the gold of the bands gleamed in the sunlight from the office window. Some tiny part of her brain was sending out blaring alarm signals: _Too close, you're getting too close, pull back..._

Thing was, they were right. She was getting too close, not just to Klara, but to _everyone_ in the Tower. She had promised that she would never get close to anyone again. She had broken that promise two years ago, but Bruce was different. He understood her, in a strange way. And she knew he would be alright if- _when_ something happened to her. The inevitability of her death still shadowed her, but Bruce's strength had made the shadow bearable, had lightened the burden of it.

But it was too dangerous to bring in someone else, to allow any others into the circle of reef that sheltered the island of her life. Especially not Klara, who had already lived through so much loss and heartbreak. Alice still remembered with vivid clarity the pain and misery she had felt when her family was ripped senselessly away. She _recognized_ that pain in Klara: how she set herself apart, the way her expression sometimes slid away and her eyes glazed over, the lack of objection to the way the others treated her. Alice had spent most of her life trying to make sure no one else hurt that way, not because of her at least. It was hard to live in such close proximity to that pain, and do nothing.

 _Be patient,_ Bruce said, _It'll all work out_.

He was probably right. After all, Klara had Thor, right? He seemed to care about her well-being, and he had defended her readily enough. But it would take more than Thor's bellowing to make Clint, Tony, or Nat see reason, especially when it came to Loki. It would take...well, Alice didn't know _what_ it would take.

 _This isn't your fight,_ the alarms in her brain warned, _You made a promise._

Right. Don't get involved. And she wasn't, not really. Not yet. She would finish showing Klara the Tower's lower floors (they'd only made it through the top half before lunch), and then that would be that.

And she might have mentioned something about shopping for bathing suits. For the water park. Never mind that it was October, and swimsuits were going to be in short supply. This was New York. They could probably find something. And, of course, she should probably show her some of the city highlights. After all, _someone_ had to show her around. Right?

...shit.

She packed up her books and went to find Bruce. She needed someone to get her back on track, or she was gonna fail this test.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

They picked Friday for their first movie night and as the day drew closer, Alice began to get anxious. She didn't dare peek inside the box, but she shook it every day, listening to the pieces of paper fluttering around inside. When Friday finally rolled around, she got out of bed and took the quinjet for a long, circuitous flight to Jersey and back (which was as far as JARVIS was programmed to allow her to fly unsupervised), trying to settle her nerves. It didn't work. She was practically vibrating when she finally collected the box from the kitchen and headed down with Bruce to the rec room. When the elevator stopped on Level 28, Alice panicked and pressed the pause button to keep the doors closed.

"Is anything the matter, Miss Ripley?" JARVIS asked, "Your heart rate is significantly elevated and your breathing is quite erratic."

"What if nobody shows up?" She was staring at her wide-eyed reflection in the metal doors, the paper of the box crinkling beneath her whitening knuckles. "What if Clint's right and this is a stupid idea? Oh god, what if Tony filled this _entire_ box with porn?!"

"If he did that, I'll kill him myself," Bruce said, and Alice blinked, equal parts comforted and alarmed by the complete seriousness of his tone, "But he didn't. Tony talks a lot of crap, but he knows this is important to you, Alice. And, contrary to popular belief, he isn't a _complete_ jackass."

Alice snorted an involuntary laugh.

"No," she agreed, "Only a _miniature_ jackass. House-trained even!"

" _Barely_ house-trained," Bruce countered with a smirk, "But loyal to a fault, the tiny bastard."

Another burst of laughter escaped her, the old joke loosening some of the tension in her chest.

"If it is of any further comfort, there are currently five persons occupying Recreational Area 2F of Level 28," JARVIS added, "Popcorn and drinks have been provided and are currently being enjoyed by all present."

Alice smiled at the digital display showing the floor number, where she always imagined the AI's 'face' to be.

"Thanks, JARVIS," she said, "That does help."

"My pleasure, Miss Ripley. Would you like me to open the doors now?"

Alice took a breath and rolled her shoulders once. Bruce leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"I love you," he murmured, "You know that?"

She smiled up at him, her face beaming. She didn't think she'd ever stop loving the way he said that, the way the words vibrated somewhere deep in her chest. It made her warm and tingly all over.

"I know," she said, "I love you too."

She turned back to their reflections and nodded once.

"Okay, JARVIS," she said, "Let's do this."

The doors opened and she stepped out with as much confidence as she could muster. The hallway wasn't that long, but it felt like it took the better part of forever to make it to the double doors of the rec room. Bruce opened the door for her and she stepped in.

"You're late!" Tony shouted, throwing a handful of popcorn at her over the back of one of the couches scattered throughout the room, "Are we doing this or what?"

The floor angled down toward a movie theater screen along one wall and that was the direction Alice headed, while Bruce went to plop down next to Tony, taking the popcorn from him before he could make any more of a mess. Thor and Klara were sitting on the far side of the room, Thor already digging into a large container of popcorn like it was going out of style. Steve had settled in the couch that was closest to the middle of the room, along with a surprising guest.

"Sam!" Alice exclaimed, pausing to grin at the young man slouched down on the couch with his feet propped up on a coffee table, "I didn't know you were back!"

"Got in a couple hours ago," Sam said, matching her grin and punching Steve in the arm, "Speedy here let me know what was going on. I wasn't about to miss out."

Steve rolled his eyes and slugged him on the leg, knocking both his feet to the floor.

"Get your feet off the table, you idiot," he said, "Were you born in a barn?"

"I'm really glad you're here, Sam," Alice said and meant it. Sam's unexpected appearance soothed a little of the sting she felt at Clint and Natasha's absence. She had almost expected Clint to weasel out somehow, but she had thought Nat might at least _try_ -

She shook it off and hurried to the front of the room with her box.

"Okay," she said, and her voice carried farther than she had expected in the suddenly quiet room, "Here's how its gonna work, so it stays fair: JARVIS is gonna choose someone at random to pick our movie out of the box. Whatever they come up with, that's what we watch. JARVIS?"

"Processing," JARVIS said, followed almost immediately by, "Captain Steven Rogers."

"That seems _suspiciously_ appropriate, JARVIS," Tony said, raising an eyebrow at the ceiling.

"I assure you, Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers was chosen completely at random."

Tony didn't look convinced, but Alice ignored him, holding the box out for Steve.

"Captain, if you'd do the honors?"

He good-naturedly took it from her and tore away the paper, lifting the top and rummaging around for a minute before he came up with a folded piece of plain white paper. He took a moment to read what was written, then smiled as he handed it to her.

"I didn't write it," he said, "But it's on my list."

In carefully printed block letters were the words STAR WARS.

"Sweet!" Tony said, reaching across Bruce for a handful of popcorn, "Six movie marathon, who's with me?"

Before Alice could reply, the double doors opened and Clint walked in, trailed by Natasha.

"God, Tony, are you trying to kill me?" Clint said, his shoulders hunched in his plain black tee, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, "I am _not_ sitting through fifteen hours of this bullshit."

Alice saw Klara twitch out of the corner of her eye, and without looking up from her phone, Nat punched her best friend squarely in the arm. He flinched, glaring at her before he slumped down into one of the loveseats with his arms crossed, the very picture of a sullen teenager being forced to attend a family meeting. Still, without looking up, Nat flopped down next to him, slinging her booted feet into his lap as if to anchor him to the spot. Alice realized at least three seconds too late that the silence had stretched out too long and she desperately tried to gather her wits for a retort.

Tony beat her to it.

"Well, we should at least start with the Phantom Menace."

"We are _not_ starting with the Phantom Menace," Alice said, rolling her eyes and looking up toward the ceiling, "JARVIS?"

"Ready when you are, Miss Ripley."

"Hit the lights."

As the lights dimmed, Alice stashed the suggestion box in the corner and dashed across the room, squeezing in between Bruce and Tony on the couch and snatching the popcorn away to nestle in the crook of her crossed legs. Bruce passed her a large cup of soda as the first blare of the opening theme started to play and she sipped gratefully, her mouth and throat dry from nerves.

At first, she kept sneaking glances around the room, checking in, making sure things hadn't devolved into a complete disaster. But by the time they reached the Cantina scene, everyone seemed to have settled. Clint and Natasha were passing a drink and a bag of popcorn between them, and despite his initial reluctance, Clint didn't seem quite as miserable as he might have wanted everyone to believe. He kept snorting as the Storm Troopers missed perfectly good shots. Steve was giving the movie every iota of his attention, his eyes moving over the screen as if dissecting battle tactics. He shot upright, visibly upset when Obi-Wan was cut down by Vader. Sam spent his time cheering on the flying maneuvers with loud boisterous encouragement like "Yeah!" and "Get some!" Thor kept shoving popcorn into his face and grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the hell out of himself while Klara sat primly beside him, hands folded in her lap and eyes fixed with rapt attention to the flickering screen.

By the time they reached the battle planning on Yavin 4, Alice had finally relaxed enough to sit back and watch the movie. Bruce's arm had settled over the back of the couch and it slipped down to rest across her shoulders, fingers playing absently with the ends of her hair. It was the longest it had been in years, and she had been thinking about getting it cut. Now she wasn't so sure she wanted to. In the dark, quiet moment before the Death Star battle truly got underway, Bruce ducked down and kissed her. She barely had time to relish the warm, tingly feeling before they were assaulted with a hail of buttery missiles.

"PDA! PDA!" Tony shouted, tossing another handful of popcorn at them as Alice laughed and put up her hands as shelter against the attack, "If I'd wanted to see this I would have filled the box up with porn!"

"Dude shut the hell up, we're missing the best part!" Sam protested, his eyes fixed on the screen. One of the TIE-fighters went down in a shower of sparks and he pumped both fists in the air, "Yes! Did you see that? That my friend, was pure-ass skill, right there!"

"Oh please," Clint said, rolling his eyes, "He only made that shot because the fighter behind missed!"

"You wanna go, Bird-boy?" Sam asked, turning to face him with a challenging grin.

Clint smirked. "Any time, Tweety."

"Boys, you're both pretty," Nat said, "But we really are gonna miss the best part."

There was tense silence as Luke made his way down the trench and a general cheer when Han Solo appeared and blew Darth Vader out of the sky. The movie ended and the lights began to come up.

"Well, Alice, I gotta admit," Tony said, standing up and stretching, "That was pretty damn entertaining."

"I gotta say, Stark, I really feel like I understand you so much better now," Steve said, turning around and propping himself up on the back of the couch, "You think you're Han Solo."

Tony jerked back and pressed a hand to his chest in mock indignation.

"How could you say that? I am _clearly_ Luke Skywalker!"

Steve rolled his eyes. "You are _not_ Luke Skywalker."

"The young prodigy, destined to follow in the footsteps of his father, only to become greater than he ever was? I _am_ Luke Skywalker."

"You're only saying that because you want to be the star-"

Alice was about to tell Tony that he was clearly _Chewbacca_ , when she saw Clint disappearing through the double doors, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched. She blinked and met Natasha's eyes. Nat gave her a long-suffering expression that was almost apologetic as she got up and followed after her friend, slurping at her drink with her phone still in her hand, typing furiously. Alice tried to ignore the pang of disappointment. At least he came, right? That was more than she had hoped for.

Shaking off the cloud, Alice left Steve and Tony to their argument ("How can you compare JARVIS to C-3PO? You take that back!") and plopped down next to Klara instead, who was examining her hands with far more interest than Alice thought they probably warranted.

"So, what did you guys think?" she asked, grinning and including Thor in the conversation too, who seemed more than willing to contribute.

"What mighty battles!" he exclaimed, "Your Princess Leia reminds me very much of Sif, she would have a great appreciation for this film, I think."

"Leia's pretty great," Alice agreed, "Klara? Any thoughts? Favorite character? I like R2-D2 myself."

Klara looked up, surprised, and then furrowed her brow, lowering her eyes again.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed...a strange man," she said finally, "He simply _allowed_ Darth Vader to slay him. I'm not sure I understand that completely."

"Yeah, it doesn't really become clear until the later movies why he did that," Alice said, "We'll have to watch them all, eventually."

"And as for Vader himself-" The furrow in her brow deepened. "-there is something odd about him, something...missing. He seemed trapped, desperate even. I felt...sorry for him."

After she said it, she seemed to flinch away from her own words. She got to her feet.

"Excuse me, I'm afraid I don't feel very well."

She dropped a curtsy and left in a rush, her head held high, but somehow even more distant. The eyes of the others watching her go did not even seem to phase her. Thor rose only a moment after.

"Forgive us, Miss Ripley, but I must see to Klara," he said, taking her hand and bowing over it, "Thank you for a lovely evening. I look forward to the next."

And then he was gone too, leaving Alice sitting by herself and wondering if, instead of helping, she'd only made things worse.

 _This isn't your fight... too close..._

Damn it.

* * *

 _I feel sorry for him..._ Why had she said that?

Klara did not leave her room for two days. She couldn't bear it. Every time she considered making even a token appearance, the words echoed again in her mind and she saw the faces of those that lived in the Tower, heard their angry voices, and...she couldn't face them. She couldn't. So she made her excuses to Lord Thor and remained in seclusion. He brought her meals, but she ate little. And as the darkness began to close in, she started to give serious consideration to Lord Thor's offer.

 _I am sure she would be glad to have you..._

It was true. Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, even Dr. Selvig had already made peace with Klara's past. They knew the sacrifice that had been made, had witnessed its direct effects, and that had softened... _him_ in their minds a bit. She could go back to them. They would not even question it, would not say a word should she choose to return. If Lord Thor said it was so, it would be.

But...this was not the first time she had been immersed in these shadows, in this heavy cloud of despair that threatened to consume her. And when she had finally been pulled free of the mire, that first year on Midgard, she had made a promise: that she would not allow that darkness to claim her ever again. To retreat now, even under such heavy fire, felt like a direct betrayal of her vow. This was but another form of darkness, another form the cloud had taken, the form of words and opinions and false assumptions. Would she bow before it?

Would Lady Frigga have bowed to it?

Klara knew that answer. She knew it in every memory of the queen's last year, in every decision she had witnessed and every decision she had not. She knew it in the existence of her very dilemma. For if the queen had bowed to that darkness, Klara would not be facing this darkness of her own. She did not blame the queen, nor begrudge her. She had grown more in the dungeons of Asgard than she had in all the long years she had served in the light, and she was grateful for what little time she'd had. And she would not flee now from what that year had taught her. From what _he_ had taught her.

Once she reached this conclusion, she immediately rose, washed, dressed, and left her room in the Tower. She did it before she could think, before the words and oppression could take root inside her again. She did it to move and be free, for just a little while before she was forced to rein in once more.

It was night. It took several moments to work up her courage and touch one of the wall panels to see it was the third hour of the morning, the sun not yet risen, though the windows glowed with the perpetual light of the never-sleeping city below. The sound was muted here and without it, it was easy to forget that Asgard did not lay in silent slumber all around.

But though the slumber was not Asgardian, it was complete. The Tower was quietest at this hour, and she took it as a good sign. She entered the elevator at the far end of the hall and pressed a button on the top half of the panel at random. She did not venture below the theater on Level 28 (Alice had not given her the tour of those levels yet), but she would see what there was to see in the quiet dark before dawn in this home of giants and heroes.

The doors slid open and she recognized the place instantly. It was one of the recreational floors, what Alice had called a "gym". The room was large and dimly lit, but in the quiet, there was a steady thumping reverberating dully on the walls. Cautiously, Klara moved forward through the maze of strange equipment and peeked around the roped-off square standing in its own puddle of light.

A long, cylindrical bag swung from the ceiling by a web of chains with Captain Steve Rogers posed before it, his fists wrapped in strips of white cloth. As Klara watched, the captain struck in a series of rapid-fire motions, and the bag swung crazily for a moment before returning to its lazy twirl. He turned with the bag, angling into position to strike again, ducking and stepping in time to the blows he rained upon it. It was like watching a skilled dancer work his way around a clumsy partner and still somehow manage to make the performance seem worthwhile.

"Can't sleep?"

Klara stiffened and jerked instinctively back behind the corner of the raised square platform. Could she still escape? Could she pretend that she hadn't heard or (even better) that she wasn't here at all, that he had imagined her presence? Perhaps she could sneak away after he had gone and... No. No, she would not flee. Instead, she forced out the breath she had been holding and straightened, turning to face the Midgardian captain with a curtsy already in progress.

"Forgive me, Captain Rogers, I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, the easy words tripping across her tongue like an old habit. But before she could take another breath to continue, to leave him to his training, he was speaking again.

"Yeah, I can't sleep either," he said, casually, as if this sort of interruption happened often at this odd hour of the morning, "Not like I used to anyway, not since the serum. Being frozen for about seventy years probably didn't help either. I think my internal clock has decided I've used up my quota of sleep for a while."

He looked up and Klara blinked at him. He was smiling. Had he made a jest? Should she laugh? She thought she should laugh, but her lips betrayed her with words instead.

"That's quite Asgardian of you."

He laughed at that, a light chuckle that fell on Klara's ears like the tolling of distant bells.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, "Glad to see you're feeling better."

Klara blinked at him again, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Thor told us you weren't feeling well."

"Oh." Of course, he would have had to say something, and she supposed it hadn't been a lie, after all. "Yes, I feel much better, thank you."

He nodded and resumed his stance at the bag, fists clenched in a tight formation before him. Klara remained where she stood, unsure. Should she now make her excuses and leave him? Was he expecting their conversation to continue during his training? She had never been present for any of the training exercises on Asgard, not even when she had been...well, when Andvari had shown interest in her. He wouldn't have stood for it. It wasn't her place. But Captain Rogers did not seem to find her presence the least bit strange. And she could not help but feel the smallest spark of curiosity.

"What do you call it?"

The question escaped before she could think better of it, and it took all her strength not to cringe at her own forwardness. But Captain Rogers answered without pausing.

"Boxing," he said, punctuated by a few rapid blows, "Helps me think. Just fists and a bag, simple but effective."

He slammed the bag a few more times and then caught it in one arm, arresting the swinging motion, brushing his hair back from his brow to see her clearly.

"Wanna try it out?"

Klara was so startled that she stepped back, hands clasped tightly behind her and the breath caught in her throat. Try? Her eyes flickered several times between the captain and the bag he now cradled against him, keeping it steady. He was still smiling. It was a marvel to her, that those smiles came so easily to him. She had never met a man who smiled as easily as he, except perhaps Lord Volstagg. Lord Volstagg had never looked at her as one looks at an enemy. Even knowing where she spent her hours. Even knowing whom she cared for...

Had Lord Volstagg offered her this opportunity, Klara would not have hesitated. She set her shoulders and managed to nod. Captain Rogers released the bag and stepped toward one of the nearby shelves, returning with a roll of what looked like pale blue cloth. He approached her as one might approach a skittish animal, his own cloth-wrapped hands held out.

"Come on," he said, "Let me wrap up your hands."

Klara clenched her fists reflexively, but then released one of her hands to his care. He took it as one might take a rare book, resting it flat in his palm and unrolling a length of the blue fabric, laying it precisely in the crook of her thumb. Klara watched, intrigued, as his fingers moved over her wrist, around her knuckles, securing her thumb, over and over, until nothing remained but the end.

"It'll keep your wrist straight," Captain Rogers explained as he tucked in the loose end and started again on the other hand, "And protect your hands from the bag. It's just vinyl, but if you stay at it long enough, it can really tear up your knuckles."

He finished and stepped back to survey his work. Klara flexed her hands and discovered that, while it restricted her movement, the wrappings came with a feeling of security. It was the closest she had ever come to battle armor in her life, and there was a strange sense of comfort in that. She felt better with it on.

"You should probably have a better pair of shoes," the captain said, bringing her back with this gently-spoken criticism, "But it shouldn't matter for today. You won't be moving around too much at first."

He settled her into position before the swinging bag with a calm efficiency, leaving no time for Klara to feel awkward about being maneuvered in such a way. He placed her feet and hands in the correct positions and demonstrated the two most basic strikes, what he called a "jab" and a "cross".

"There's others, but we'll add them later," he said when she had practiced the movements a bit in the air before him, "These two will get you pretty far on their own. A lot of boxing is just knowing how to throw those two punches at the right time and in the right place."

He moved to stand behind the bag, bracing it on his thigh and against his side.

"Alright, hit me," he said, with a slight smirk that made Klara think he might have been making another jest. Her stomach was fluttering too badly to even think of returning the humor.

She lined up with the bag and flexed her fingers one final time, checking her position. Then she jabbed. Her hand connected with the vinyl in a light whap of sound.

"That wasn't a punch," Captain Rogers informed her, "That was a practice run. A warm up. Now, hit me."

Klara squared up with the bag once more and jabbed again. Again the sound was not all that impressive.

"Klara-" She looked up, into the captain's shining blue eyes. How was it that he was still smiling? "-you aren't going to hurt me. I promise, whatever you can throw at me, I've felt a lot worse. You don't have to be scared."

Klara jolted back from the bag as if he had just thrown a jab of his own and shoved her. Didn't she? Didn't she have every reason to be afraid, here of all places among the enemies of the one she had-? She took another step back, the dark cloud threatening to descend, the cold feeling of empty resolve, of hopeless defeat. She would never be free of it. It would follow her all the days of her life, it was a part of her, this dark secret she kept, this pain that she could not voice, could not even _acknowledge_...

"I shouldn't be here," she said, turning away and fumbling at the wrappings on her hands. Her fingers were shaking. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, hold on, wait-"

His hands were steady and gentle as they wrapped around her shaking fingers, holding the wrappings in place despite her efforts. There was a long pause in which Klara did not dare look up, but did not dare to take away her hands either. The wrappings still made her feel stronger, as if removing them might mean the complete undoing of whatever was holding her together.

Captain Rogers sighed and Klara braced herself.

"Listen, I've been turning it over for the last few days," he said, releasing her hands and running his fingers through his hair, "And honestly? I still don't get it. I mean you know what he did. You knew even before...everything, with the Convergence. And maybe I'm completely out of line here, Klara, but you don't seem like the kind of person to just let that go. You seem..." He hesitated and his jaw tightened as if the next word were difficult. "...kind."

Klara dropped her gaze, studying her slipper-clad toes. He sighed again, and she could hear his frustration.

"What did you see in him?"

It was the obvious question, and yet it rattled every fiber of her being. What _had_ she seen?

 _He was once a prince... He was once a son..._

But that was the wrong answer. He wouldn't understand it, and so Klara was left struggling to find an answer that he _would_ understand. Because at least he was asking, which was more than anyone else had done. It seemed that everyone was always speaking around her, even _about_ her, but never with the intention that she herself should have anything to say in response. She was used to this. It was how she had grown up. But that last year in Asgard, she had learned what it was to speak and be heard. It was nice to know that the skill might still be put to use, even here.

And wasn't _that_ the answer? She looked up, into those hard, blue eyes searching for answers, and instead asked a question of her own.

"Have you ever been seen, Captain?" He blinked and the simmering frustration vanished, replaced by puzzlement and attentiveness. "Not for what you can do, or where you come from, or what you might become. Really _seen_ for who you truly are?"

She watched the realization bleed into him, the sad, far away look of a fond memory, long lost. She could not help it. She smiled.

"Then you are lucky," she said, "I had never before been seen. Not until he saw me."

 _Three steps. Three steps he had allowed her before he asked._

 _"What is your name?_

 _"...Klara."_

"You're right," she said, " I did know, though not in the same way I know now. I do not condone his actions, or even pretend to understand them. What happened here was a terrible crime and he was punished for it. I watched him suffer the effects of that punishment. It nearly took his life."

That jolted the captain, though Klara could not see how it might make even the slightest difference to anyone but her. The only other person that had ever seemed to care was dead.

"I cannot change what happened," she said, "I can only tell you that the man I cared for in Lady Frigga's name was kind to me, in his way. He was lonely. And he was troubled, deeply, by things I could not even begin to fathom."

She realized she was touching the bobble at her collar, the shining jewel entwined with silver that she hid beneath her tunic.

 _...stars, and monsters in the dark..._

She dropped her hands and clasped them both behind her. The padding lent strength to her posture that she might not have otherwise had.

"Forgive me, Captain Rogers," she said, "But I'm afraid the Loki you knew, and the Loki I knew, were two very different people."

He searched her face and, for a brief moment, Klara saw the glimmer of possibility in his eyes, the smallest chance that he might understand. Someday. But for now, he merely nodded, moving back into position behind the bag.

"Okay," he said, settling back into his supportive stance, "Let's try again."

As Klara moved into position, she hoped he meant more by his words than she dared to believe. But the hope was enough. It was _more_ than enough.

* * *

Steve left Klara to her contemplation of the punching bag when the sun started peeking through the windows. He felt...drained. Not just from physical exertion (though once she'd stopped pulling her punches, the girl packed more of a wallop than he'd guessed), but mentally and emotionally too. The things she had said...and the distant agony in her voice... It was like listening to someone who had been screaming in an empty room for so long they'd forgotten what it was to be heard.

Damn. Why couldn't things ever be easy? Why couldn't the universe hand him even _one_ thing that was clearly black and white?

 _Your name is James Buchanan Barnes... You know me..._

 _...the Loki you knew, and the Loki I knew, were two very different people..._

"Barton's gonna be pissed."

Steve jumped and nearly slammed into the wall. Nat smirked as she emerged from the shadows of the adjoining corridor.

" _Jesus_ , Romanov," he huffed, regaining his balance and brushing past her, leaving her to catch up, "Are we gonna have to put a bell on you, or what?"

"You can try," she quipped as she matched his stride, "At least make it a challenge for me."

They walked in companionable silence for a few beats.

"Barton's gonna be pissed," she repeated. Steve set his jaw. He had been hoping she wouldn't repeat it.

"Thor trusts her," he said, "And if she can really do what he says? If she actually brought Loki to bear? That's a power we want on our side."

"I'm not saying you're wrong," Nat said, and a touch of his defensiveness bled away, "I'm just saying, Barton's gonna be an asshole about it."

"Barton's gonna have to learn to play ball, or he's gonna be warming a bench," he said, "Klara didn't dig around in his head, he needs to stop treating her like she ran over his dog."

Nat didn't say anything for several seconds. Long enough for Steve to remember how close the two ex-agents were.

"I'm not saying he doesn't have a legitimate point," Steve said, pulling up short and running a hand through his hair, "But if we stop working with everyone that doesn't see things exactly the way we do, our list of friends and allies is gonna get real short, real quick." He met Nat's unreadable gaze. "The past is the past. We can't change what happened. But Loki's gone, and we're still here, picking up the pieces. So is Klara. We should use her if we can."

Nat stared him down for several, intimidating seconds, then shrugged.

"I'll let him know," she said, "He might need a few days to put himself together."

"Tell him to take all the time he needs," Steve said, "If he can't leave his personal grudges at the door, I don't want him here."

Nat nodded, but Steve took her by the arm before she could walk off.

"I know this is hard for you too," he said, "I'm sorry. It's just the way things are."

She rolled her eyes.

"Don't go getting all weepy on me, Rogers," she said, punching him in the arm, "You think this the first time I've had to work two sides? What did you think my job _was_ at SHIELD?"

"Always figured you were some kind of accountant," he said, "The bad-ass act was just a cover."

"You know me so well."

She winked and then she was gone. Steve shook his head and headed toward his room, ready for a shower. It was gonna be a long day.

* * *

 **A/N:** Not gonna lie, the boxing scene is one of my favorites in this fic :) I hope you enjoyed it too!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Alice felt like her brain had been pounded into mush. She was pretty sure she'd passed her test in Physiology, but it had been a close thing. All she wanted now was to take the quinjet out for a spin, but Clint had left on that vacation he had been threatening them with, and she couldn't seem to find Tony anywhere. JARVIS was being surprisingly unhelpful, claiming that her security clearance wasn't high enough to access his location, which was bullshit. She practically had the run of the Tower; she had never _once_ been denied access to anything.

In frustration, she decided to start at the top of the Tower and work her way down until she rooted out _someone_ who could give her some answers. She rode the elevator up to Tony's private penthouse floor and banged on his door. Nothing. She huffed and got back in the elevator, punching the button for the next floor down, the penthouse communal floor. At least she could get some coffee before she continued the search. As soon as the doors slid open, she marched out and glanced around the lounge and dining area, not expecting to find much.

There was no Tony, of course, but Klara was there, sitting at the table with both hands clasped in her lap as she bent over a transparent tablet in front of her, scrutinizing it intently. As Alice strode past her into the kitchen and started the coffee brewing, she saw the girl hesitantly touch the corner of the screen and swipe, turning a page. The look of delight on her face made a little of Alice's frustration dissipate.

"You can pick that up, you know," she said, as she grabbed a thermal mug out of the cabinet. Klara jumped and Alice grinned at her. "It won't bite. Probably."

The girl returned her smile and Alice was happy to see no trace of whatever illness had plagued her for the past few days. She had her suspicions that it hadn't actually been a _physical_ ailment, but Alice wasn't one to judge. She'd had her share of "illnesses" in her lifetime.

"Oh, Alice," Klara said, actually sounding pleased to see her, "Forgive me, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Engrossing read?" Alice asked, unscrewing the lid on her travel mug and dumping the coffee in black.

"It is Dr. Foster's newest article on the Convergence," Klara said, sounding very much like a proud family member, "I confess that most of the technical aspects are beyond me, but the wording is quite elegant."

Alice meandered over and peered over Klara's shoulder. There was a picture of Greenwich, clearly taken during what Klara called "the Convergence", showing the circles of worlds that had appeared like overlapping windows over the windswept green, followed by several indecipherable charts and paragraphs upon paragraphs of technobabble. Alice raised an eyebrow.

"You're doing better than me," she said, sipping her coffee and, wincing, reaching across the table for the sugar bowl, "That looks like a foreign language."

"It is truly fascinating," Klara said eagerly, "From what I gather it has brought your world that much closer to interstellar travel, such as the Rainbow Bridge. Midgard might very well join the rest Nine Realms in proper order within your lifetime!"

A vision of the dragon-turtle war machines gliding out of a gaping hole in the sky a few years back made Alice shudder. She took another sip of her coffee.

"No offense, Klara," she said, "But what I've seen of the Nine Realms hasn't exactly been all that welcoming."

Klara glanced up confused, and then her expression fell, dropping her eyes back to the tablet as if the article was now tainted somehow. Alice regretted her pessimism almost immediately.

"I mean, I haven't been to _Asgard_ , obviously," Alice said, in an attempt at recovery, "That sounds like a cool place. I'm sure there are others too, I mean, _nine_ , right? They can't all suck."

Ugh. Alice wanted to bury her face in her hands. What was she doing? She was the _worst_ at stuff like this! But despite her bumbling ineloquence, a tiny bit of Klara's smile returned.

"I have always wanted to see Vanaheim, myself. They say the Vanir were once the greatest of the Nine Realms, even greater than Asgard. They are a peaceful people for the most part, kind and gentle. I would like to see the home of..."

She trailed off and her brow furrowed. Then she shook it away and met Alice's eyes.

"Yes, there are many that would welcome Midgard, I think," she said, "Perhaps you shall be their ambassador, Alice. The role would suit you."

Alice choked on her coffee.

"You're kidding, right?" Alice said, once she'd managed to clear the coffee from her lungs, "I'm like, the _anti_ -ambassador. I have no grace, none of the fancy words, I mean, are you even listening to me talk, right now? Nobody wants me to represent the human race, trust me."

Klara did not look convinced.

"You sell yourself short," she said, "Frankness and an open heart are far more desirable qualities than poise or pretty words. I think you would make a fine ambassador."

Alice stared at her. She was dead serious. Holy crap.

"Well, luckily we won't have to worry about _that_ for a while," Alice said, topping off her coffee and screwing the lid back on, "So, in the meantime, I'll just play tour guide. You wanna pick up where we left off? Most of the teen floors are all offices anyway, it shouldn't take long."

Klara made a quick nervous tap on the tablet screen. It went dark and she stood, smoothing her tunic.

"Yes, that would be lovely," she said, "I should have a working knowledge of the Tower as a whole if I am to stay for any length of time."

Alice raised an eyebrow but decided to leave it be. They headed to the elevator and (skipping the private floors) Alice pressed the button for Level 18, which was part of the public dining area for the Stark Industries employees. They stopped for a donut and to say hi to Maureen, the lady working the lunch line on Level 16, before they moved on to the eight levels of office space. She hadn't been kidding when she said that most of the teen levels were offices. Levels 12 and 9 were being renovated (Alice didn't know for what, that was Maria's department), but the rest of the levels she dutifully walked Klara through, waving at the few employees that she recognized. They almost literally ran into Maria Hill on Level 11, as they were coming around a corner and Alice made formal introductions.

"Oh right, Thor's sidekick, I heard about you," Maria said, taking Klara's hand in a firm grip, "How's the Clint situation coming along?"

Klara stiffened, and Alice answered for her.

"Clint's on vacation."

Klara's brows rose in surprise, but Maria either didn't notice or chose not to make anything of it.

"Right. Well, don't let him get to you," she said to Klara, releasing her hand, "He's not one for grudges, he'll come around."

"That's what I said," Alice said, giving Klara a side-long, told-you-so smile, "Hey, Maria, you haven't seen Tony, have you? JARVIS is being difficult and won't give me a location."

Maria shook her head just as her phone buzzed.

"Sorry, Alice, I haven't seen him all day. You know how much he hates the office." She glanced at her phone display. "It's the boss, better take this. Nice to meet you, Klara."

Before Klara could reply Maria put the phone to her ear and started walking away.

"Hi, Pepper!" Alice shouted in her direction and was rewarded with a wave back in response before Maria disappeared into one of the offices.

"Pepper?" Klara asked as they got back into the elevator and Alice pressed the button for Level 10.

"Pepper Potts," Alice clarified, "Tony's girlfriend, and the CEO of Stark Industries. She basically owns this part of the Tower."

"I see."

There was a long pause and just as the elevator door was about to open Klara spoke again, even more timidly.

"Clint Barton is vacationing?"

Alice glanced at her, then shrugged as they got out of the elevator.

"You know as much about that as I do," she said, trying not to feel the sting of the words, "He didn't tell me squat."

"Oh. I see." Another pause. "Miss Hill seemed quite nice."

Alice grinned, and let the flicker of anger go up in smoke. "Yeah, if you get past the brisk exterior, she's pretty cool. She's just really busy. She's basically the New York extension of Pepper, which means she runs day-to-day operations in the Tower. _And_ she's Tony's reluctantly unofficial babysitter. It's a full-time job."

"I get the impression that Mister Stark is not an easy man to corral," Klara said, glancing one last time around the empty offices as they stepped back into the elevator.

Alice snorted as the doors shut and she punched the button for Level 8.

"That's the understatement of the century," she said, "He's a _mess_ is what he is. He nearly got himself killed last Christmas, thought I was going to have a stroke. Idiot."

Klara quirked her head to the side curiously.

"You're quite fond of him, aren't you?"

Alice blinked, and then she shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

"I mean, sure, I like him pretty well. He's a dumbass, but he's a hard dumbass to dislike. And he was Bruce's friend when...well, before anyone else really knew him. Me and Tony, we see the same things in Bruce, things its hard for other people to see."

They made it down to the ground floor and as the doors opened, the look on Klara's face was hard to mistake. Alice took her by the arm and led her across the marble floor, through the revolving doors, and out onto the street. The girl turned in a long, slow circle on the sidewalk, heedless of the people hurrying by, staring up with wide eyes at the buildings soaring above their heads in all directions, gleaming in the midday sun.

"It really is extraordinary," she murmured, "Even on Asgard we did not have such towering extravagances as this. Midgard is truly a wonder, and most of you don't even realize..."

Alice smiled, leaning against the side of the building with her arms crossed, watching with a sort of pride as the girl marveled at the human race.

"Alright, you've convinced me," she said, shoving upright and taking the girl by the elbow, pulling her back inside the Tower before she accidentally wandered into traffic, "We'll finish up with the Tower tour today, and next week sometime I'll show you around the city."

Klara stared at Alice as if she were crazy.

"The _whole_ city?" she asked, looking back out the glass doors with a little bit of terror in her eyes, "But it's vast! How will we ever traverse it in a week?"

"Well, we're not walking, that's for sure," Alice reassured her, ushering her back through the lobby and into the elevator, "We'll take one of Tony's cars, hit the highlights: Central Park, Empire State, Lady Liberty. Don't worry, I can get around well enough."

"Will Mister Stark allow it?"

"He better," Alice said, stabbing the button for Underground 1, "But if we have to, we'll take a cab. Besides, I promised I would help you find a swimsuit so we can make good use of Level 34, remember?"

"Captain Rogers did say I might need new shoes..." Klara mused.

Alice leaned against the elevator wall with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in interest. She hadn't been aware that Klara and the captain had spoken more than two words to each other.

"Really? When did Steve say this?"

Klara shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, clasping her hands behind her and straightening her shoulders.

"I happened upon him while he was training," she said, "I didn't mean to disturb him, but he...was very kind about it. He has offered to instruct me in the activity he calls 'boxing'."

"Wow, seriously?" Alice said, "You and Steve Rogers in a boxing ring? I would pay money to see that."

"We did not enter the arena," Klara said quickly, "He only instructed me on the practice bag, and I fear I was not very good."

"Trust me, Klara, that is beside the point," Alice said as the door dinged open and they stepped out into the underground parking garage.

Alice showed Klara some of Tony's cars and Steve's motorcycle (which he still would not let her ride, the jerk). The next two levels were mostly storage, and Underground 4 was under construction as a nightclub that would likely never be finished.

At Underground 5 they ran into a problem.

"I'm sorry, Miss Ripley, but I'm afraid you don't have clearance to access this area," JARVIS said, sounding less than apologetic.

"Aha!" she said, punching the emergency stop button, "Gotcha, you sneaky bastard."

"What is it?" Klara asked.

"Tony," Alice explained, sending them back up to Underground 4, "I haven't been able to find him, and JARVIS either can't or _won't_ tell me where he is. I have pretty much all-inclusive access to this place, so where I can't go, must be where he's hiding out."

The elevator doors opened and Klara followed her into the dimly lit construction zone of the nightclub.

"So, what are we doing now?" she asked as Alice led her further into the darkened level.

"Well, _I_ may not have all-access anymore," Alice said, pushing aside a tarp for Klara to duck beneath, "But I know someone who definitely does."

She flourished an access badge in the orange glow of the emergency exit sign they were standing beneath.

"But that's Maria Hill!" Klara gasped.

"Exactly," Alice said, swiping the badge through the lock and watching with satisfaction as the light turned green and the door clicked open. She pushed it open and waved Klara inside, "And now, we see what the boys have been trying to hide in the clubhouse."

Klara peered over the railing down into the dark stairwell.

"Will there not be any other precautions?" she asked, "JARVIS is quite sophisticated. Won't he try to stop us?"

Alice shrugged and stepped around her, keeping a firm grip on the railing as she started down. "Maybe. But all he can do is alert Tony to intruders. There are no lethal security features in the Tower, Tony made sure of it. Too much margin for error."

They reached a landing with a blinking panel, asking for a badge. With fingers that only shook slightly, Alice swiped Maria's badge again. The light blinked for what felt like an eternity, then went solid green and the door clicked. Alice let out a breath and put her hand on the door handle.

"Here we go."

She opened the door and they both ducked inside. It was dark at this entrance, but there was the suggestion of light around the far corner. No one appeared to have noticed the unauthorized entry. Alice put a hand on the cool concrete wall to keep her balance and began to move forward.

"They call this level the Dungeon," she said over her shoulder to Klara, "It was meant to be a holding area for baddies, so there's all kinds of safety precautions and fail-safes. Getting in is easy, but we'll probably need Tony to let us out again."

"Criminals were held here?"

Alice detected the barest hint of a tremor in Klara's voice, and for the first time, she thought about where they were and what that might _mean_ to the other girl. Shit.

"Oh no, it was never put to use," Alice said, trying to backpedal, "Mostly they're for show, a safety net in case something really bad happens. But we've never had any...any..."

She trailed off, losing her forward momentum. They had turned the corner, and light was blazing out of a large picture window, illuminating the forms of, not just Tony Stark, but also Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, and Thor. She could feel Klara at her back, peeking around her, she could see the others turning to stare at her with varying degrees of surprise. But that didn't matter. None of it did. What mattered was what she could see _beyond_ the picture window, standing in the bright lights with eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration, dressed in a strange suit of lycra-like material she had never seen before.

Bruce.

"Alice!" That was Tony's voice, her mind told her dimly, and she tore her eyes from what they didn't understand, but she had a sneaking suspicion... "How did you even get down here? I'm gonna have to have a serious talk with JARVIS about-"

He was pushing past Steve and Thor, striding toward her as if he meant to shoo her away like a wayward child...a _child_...

"Tony," she said, and even though she never raised her voice, something in the way she said it made him stop in his tracks, "Not that I don't appreciate seeing my boyfriend in a skintight onesie...but what the _hell_ is going on?"

* * *

As Alice and Tony Stark argued, Klara moved to Lord Thor's side, dipping him a small curtsy. He nodded, acknowledging her without ire, but then returned his gaze to the arguing Midgardians.

" _This_ what you've been hiding from me?"

"We didn't want to involve you."

"Well guess what, Tony, I'm involved!"

"May I ask what is happening?" Klara asked, leaning in and speaking just loud enough for Lord Thor to hear.

But to her surprise, it was Miss Romanov who answered.

"Alice had an idea that the Hulk might be evolving, gaining intelligence. That he might even be reasoned with, talked into working with Dr. Banner and with us, eliminating the need for brute force to bring him under control."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"It would be," Captain Rogers agreed, keeping his eyes on the argument, his arms crossed, "But so far, we haven't had a whole lot of luck."

"And Alice didn't know," Klara said, "That you've been trying, I mean."

"Bruce didn't want her to know," Captain Rogers said, glancing down at her, "Not yet. Probably for this exact reason."

"When are you guys gonna stop treating me like I don't know what I've gotten myself into?" Alice snapped.

Mister Stark let loose a frustrated sigh and shoved his hands through his hair.

"I know, alright, I know! But, come on Alice, be honest! You live your entire life one reckless step away from disaster, can you _really_ blame us for at least _trying_ to keep you safe?"

"It's not your job-!"

" _Yes, it is!_ " Stark shouted, sending the girl reeling back a step, "God, you just... That's what friends _do_ , Alice!"

There was a long, pointed pause. Alice's arms were tightly crossed and she still looked very angry, but now she looked strangely frightened as well. Stark sighed and rubbed his face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he said, "That was...stupid and pointless, and I know-"

A monstrous roar reverberated against the stone of the corridor and everybody whirled toward the large, brightly lit window. Where Dr. Banner had stood moments before, poised and controlled, there was now only a blur of green and black. The creature slammed into the window and, though there were no vibrations from his impact, a shimmering blue light rippled at every point of contact. The room seemed to contain the strength of his fury, but that did not stop him from trying, roaring and charging at every wall and corner in frustration.

Klara had never seen anything like it. She had been told, of course, of the doctor's gift, that there was something inside him threatening at all times to consume him, but she knew now that it would be impossible to truly comprehend the magnitude without seeing it for oneself. He was not just a thing of rage and power, he was a force of nature. An explosive capsule of infinite possibility. Klara did not realize that she had been staring until she was brought back by the loud shouts of Tony Stark once more.

"See, this? This is why we didn't want to involve you!"

"Tony, I'm not scared!"

"That's exactly my point!"

"Well, you guys aren't having any luck, why _not_ let me have a shot?" Alice insisted, arms still stubbornly crossed over her chest.

"Because you have no experience here, okay? None!" Stark said, "You have no idea what you're getting into!"

"Oh, and _Nat_ has so much more experience than me."

"Actually, she does."

"One time, Tony! He chased her around the helicarrier _one time!_ "

"Well, she got away didn't she?"

"I'm standing right here, actually," Miss Romanov said, but neither combatant seemed to notice and she didn't appear terribly concerned with being acknowledged. She leaned back against the wall and smirked as the fight raged on.

"Do you realize what would happen if I let you in there and something happened to you?" Stark said, pointing angrily at the window that the green-skinned giant was now banging against over and over, "Bruce would kill me! _Literally_ , kill me!"

"Oh that's right, and it's _all_ about you, isn't it Tony?"

"Okay, we're done," Captain Rogers said, stepping forward and putting his hands out to each angry party, as if warding off a sparring match, "Alice, I know you're upset, but we have work to do, and like it or not, Nat is more equipped to handle the situation right now than you are. I'm not saying you shouldn't have a shot, but I think you need to consider-"

Klara's eyes drifted back to the glass as the captain continued to soothe as best he could. The creature within had settled a bit now, though he still paced the width and breadth of the room that held him captive, huge hands clenching and unclenching as he snorted and surveyed the bland white walls of his surroundings. That was when she realized...she had seen this before. A man pacing a cage, longing to be free, confined by virtue of his very nature.

 _That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect..._

She pressed her fingers to the glass. It did not fall away.

"May I try?"

The hallway was suddenly silent. Klara turned. They were all staring at her, wearing varying expressions of skepticism and mistrust. Only Lord Thor looked contemplative, and so it was to him that she directed her inquiry.

"Please," she said, standing straight with her hands clasped behind her, mustering all the courage she could find, "I would very much like to try."

Mister Stark tossed his hands into the air. "Jesus, everybody wants to be a hero!"

"Klara," Captain Rogers said, a furrow in his brow, "No offense, but you have even less experience with this than Alice."

"On the contrary, Captain Rogers, I have a great deal of experience managing prisoners confined to white boxes."

The captain blinked and Klara fought to conceal her own surprise at her cheek, not daring to back down now that it had been said.

"In fact, Klara may have the best chance of us all to make this work," Lord Thor said, still looking at Klara with that thoughtful expression, "As a natural Abjurate, she has the innate ability to deflect and disperse magic and its effects. She may indeed have the power to ease the transition for Dr. Banner, making it easier to regain control of his faculties, given the right conditions."

"But this isn't magic!" Stark insisted, "This is science!"

"And as I have many times tried to explain, on Asgard more often than not the two concepts are interchangeable."

"You're asking us to let her waltz in there based on some theory of magical science that may or may not prove true? Tasha, come on, back me up here."

Miss Romanov met Klara's eyes. She was still smirking as if the entire situation was no more than a silly child's game. She shrugged.

"It's her funeral."

Stark made a noise of profound frustration and whirled away, pounding at the keys belonging to a bank of electrical equipment stacked up next to the window. Alice was glaring at the floor and would not look at Klara. Klara didn't blame her. What had once been the man she loved roared at the ceiling behind her.

"God, fine, let's get this nightmare over with," Stark growled, sounding like a petulant child, "Nat, give her your panic button."

Miss Romanov detached a small device from around her wrist and Captain Rogers took it from her, approaching Klara in much the same fashion as he had when he'd prepared to wrap her hands in cloth, like a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment.

"Press this button," he said, slipping the device over Klara's hand and turning it so she could see the blue-lighted indicator, "Anytime you feel like the situation's gotten out of control. Got it?"

Klara nodded her understanding, but the Captain made her practice pressing the button several times to be certain. He tightened the strap again, triple-checking the fit, and then stepped back surveying her appearance with a critical eye that made Klara stand a bit straighter and seek out the place just beyond his shoulder to rest her gaze.

"You should have your hair up, out of the way," he finally said.

"I'll be sure to remember that next time, Captain," she answered, trying not to let any hint of unease bleed out in the form of sarcasm.

He crossed his arms and shook his head, staring down at the floor beside her feet. He was frowning. Why was he frowning?

"First sign of trouble," he said, finally looking up and meeting her gaze sternly, "I'm serious. We'll be watching, and if it even _looks_ like something's about to go wrong, we're getting you out of there. Understood?"

Klara swallowed and nodded, though she wasn't really certain that she did. He was still frowning, almost as if he were...worried? No, that couldn't be right. Klara blinked and let the foolish thought pass.

Mister Stark finished fiddling with his controls and finally indicated (in the most sulking way possible) that he was ready. Klara approached a large metal door set into the wall at an angle to the room. Lord Thor stood off to the side, still watching her with that deeply contemplative look. She dropped him a small curtsy and he smiled, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder before he turned and retreated out of her line of sight.

Klara now faced only the door, a large metal square, plain and solid with no discernible markings on the outside. She took a breath and shut her eyes. She imagined another door, leading down into the familiar dark of a dungeon that was now far away. The mere thought of it straightened her shoulders, set her resolve, brought a familiar cool confidence to her blood. This was her duty. This was her realm.

"Are we ready?" Mister Stark asked, his petulant voice sounding small and far away.

Klara nodded. She heard a hiss as the pressurized door released and she opened her eyes as it swung open, stepping inside without a moment's hesitation.

The sound of his rage was enormous as he charged at the glass window, which Klara could now see was opaque on this side, though this did not seem to deter him. He had not yet noticed her entrance, and she stood very still for several moments as he slammed into the wall over and over again. Finally, he stepped back and shook his head, as if to clear a stray thought, snorting and resuming his pacing.

"Hello."

He turned toward her, a snarl already on his lips, but upon seeing her, he paused. Though having those furious eyes turned on her made her knees tremble, Klara clenched her hands behind her and held her ground.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced. My name is Klara." She was able to manage the shock of her own terror by being marginally pleased her voice did not waver in the slightest. "I believe the others call you the Hulk?"

He snorted and shuffled, but did not seem opposed to the moniker. She steeled her nerves and took a single step into the room.

"I understand this must be very unnerving for you," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his, "To be pulled into the world so suddenly, and then asked to give it up in much the same fashion."

He snorted again and pulled back slightly. Klara stopped her forward motion, waiting. She could see his indecision, his mistrust. She had once seen these things flicker across a very different face, a more guarded countenance, upon which such glimpses of the soul were rare and precious.

"Oh, that you were yourself, but love,

You are no longer yours..."

The words came to her as if from a dream barely remembered. They brought forth images of a broken room, a broken man, comforted only by the words of a long-dead poet.

 _Sentiment..._

The Hulk paused in his shuffling. He looked at her, brow furrowed as if in concentration. Klara blinked away the tears that had threatened to rise up and tried to remember any more of the lines.

"Or...some fierce thing replete with too much rage," No, that wasn't right, she had gotten them mixed up somehow, but she couldn't stop the words now. "So I, for fear of trust, forget to say the perfect ceremony of love's rite."

The truth of the words came clear, despite her muddled memories. She stepped forward, held out a hand to him. He did not step away.

"Oh, learn to read what silent love hath writ..."

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he lifted one large hand and lowered it over her palm.

The skin was smooth and warm, and as Klara ran her fingers along the lines of veins, she felt something ripple beneath her touch.

"Then you were yourself again," she whispered as he groaned deep in his chest, dropping to one knee, "After yourself's decease."

The other knee collapsed beneath him and he curled inward, far more inward than he reasonably should have been able. It was like watching a cloth stretched too tightly over a drying line suddenly released from its bonds, retracting into its smaller, looser shape to pile on the ground. Klara knelt beside Dr. Banner, no longer daring to touch for fear of what her touch might do. He was gasping for breath, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his fingers pressed to the floor as if the strength of the stone might be imparted to him somehow. He caught his breath and looked up at her, his eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion lingering there.

"Shakespeare?" he huffed.

Klara could not help but return his smile.

"As best I could recall it," she said, "I mixed the lines a bit, I fear."

"Close enough," Mister Stark said, kneeling beside them, and Klara stood to get out of his way as he scanned Dr. Banner with a tablet device, "Where did you even learn Shakespearean sonnets?"

Klara stiffened slightly as a torrent of memory threatened to overwhelm her: a broken man, a broken room, the tears that went unnoticed and unchecked...

 _...for thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings..._

"My mother."

Klara blinked and caught her breath against her grief. Lord Thor was smiling, though she could see falsehood in it, a boon of pity for her.

"Lady Frigga was quite fond of your Midgardian bard," he said, directing his words to the group at large, "I am certain Klara heard such lines often in her service."

Was that true? It certainly wasn't true that she had heard the sonnets on Lady Frigga's lips, but it _was_ possible that the queen might have held a fondness for the poet. Was that where he had...?

 _...then you shall hear the surly sullen bell_

 _Give warning to the world that I am fled..._

"Hey, whatever works," Stark said, finishing his examination and sitting back to give Dr. Banner some space as he paged through the results on his tablet, "And it definitely works, wow, that was stunning, man, I mean, look at these figures!"

He handed the tablet to Dr. Banner, who took it and squinted at the screen.

"Oh, shit, here," Mister Stark patted his pockets for a moment and finally came up with Dr. Banner's glasses, which he took gratefully, perching them on his nose and examining the screen with much less strain. His eyebrows rose.

"Wow," he said, "That's-"

"-impressive?" Tony suggested, "Mind-boggling? Scientifically unique in every way?"

"I was going to say 'encouraging' actually," Dr. Banner said, paging through the figures, "But those all work too."

"Well, I'm glad we're all so impressed."

Alice Ripley's deadpan monotone slammed into the room with the weight of Mjolnir. The girl stood with her arms crossed, glaring at Dr. Banner as if she might set him on fire with her very gaze. The doctor, for his part, seemed to only now realize that she was even present.

"Tony-?" he began, his gaze and his tone accusing.

"Don't look at me!" Stark said, holding up his hands as if in surrender, "She snuck in! I'm gonna have to talk to JARVIS about security around here, it's clearly lacking..."

He trailed off as the silence in the room took on tangible weight. Alice had not stopped glaring and Dr. Banner looked as if he were beginning to understand the true nature of what had happened. Of what he had done.

"Alice-" he began, but she was already turning away, and she did not turn back at the sound of his plaintive call.

"You know what? It's fine. Do whatever you want."

And she disappeared into the dark. Dr. Banner covered his face and let out a frustrated sigh.

"I told you, man," Stark said, poking at his tablet as everyone else shifted uncomfortably, "Didn't I tell you? I mean, I knew she would-"

"Tony?" Dr. Banner said, his voice muffled, "Shut the hell up."

And for once, Mister Stark did just that.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hey guys, just a few quick things! First, this is a short chapter, and mostly Alice/Bruce centric. I know a lot of you are here for Klara (and I totally get that, she's awesome! :D), but just...try to follow me on this ride. I promise I'm doing everything I can to make it worth your while :) The other thing is, one of you asked what the rough length of this fic is, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is **25 chapters** long. So we're already a quarter of the way through (which is _crazy_ )!

Okay, I think that's it. Onward! :D

 **Chapter Six**

Bruce didn't follow her out of the Dungeon. Alice almost wished he had.

It had been a petty, childish way to leave things. It was beneath her. But she was so _pissed_ she could hardly see straight. Didn't he know how much this meant to her? Didn't he know how much _he_ meant to her? Did it even matter?

She needed to get out.

She was in their bedroom without really remembering how she got there. Her go-bag was on the bed. She shoved some clothes into it, whatever she could grab, and tossed it over her shoulder. She had some cash, what little was left from her previous life. It wasn't much...but she had started over with less. She felt like she couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in and she just needed to get out. It was stupid. _She_ was stupid.

She wished Clint was here.

She headed for the elevator. No one came up to stop her. Probably still congratulating themselves on not getting Klara killed. Alice tried not to feel the sharp pang of jealousy. She had been so calm, so still, so in control. Alice wished she could feel just a fraction of that.

She got to the lobby and strode toward the revolving doors. Not a peep from JARVIS. She was free to come and go as she pleased. She pushed through and sucked in the cold November air. The sun was shining, but it did almost nothing for the temperature. It felt good. She felt as if she were on fire. She turned left and merged into the flow of foot traffic. She didn't know where to go. She just needed to go.

* * *

Bruce gave Alice an hour to cool down before he went upstairs. He was exhausted, from the experience of his transformation, as well as from all the poking and prodding Tony had wanted to do afterward, but he was ready, ready for whatever disaster might be waiting for him upstairs.

Or, at least, that's what he'd thought. Before he found the bedroom in a state of disarray. Before he realized that her most worn clothes were missing. Before JARVIS informed him that Miss Ripley was no longer in the building. Only then did he realize that he _wasn't_ ready. Not for this.

* * *

She got as far as Central Park before she collapsed, dropping into the grass of an open field and letting her feet rest for a minute. She shut her eyes and took another long, cleansing breath of the cold air. Despite the lingering scents of exhaust fumes and food vendors, it smelled more like _home_ here than anywhere else in the city, her old home, the origin of her worst nightmares, the place she tried hardest to think about least. She rested her arms on her chest, one hand gripping her wrist, pressing the metal of her parents' rings into her skin.

It took a while, but eventually, she calmed down enough to realize that it was chilly. Definitely too cold to be out in only a t-shirt, especially after dark, which was rapidly descending. She sat up and pulled her bag into her lap, opening up a side pocket where she usually kept a light jacket.

A puff of jasmine filled her nose and just like that she was back in Kolkata. It was the day before Holi, a bell tinkled over the shop door and Bruce was there, a garland of jasmine clutched shyly in his hand: an apology. She saw him with green dust in his hair and colors streaking his clothes, her hand clutched in his and she felt _safe,_ for the first time in so long she couldn't remember the last time. She saw his eyes glowing in the bonfire, a furrowed brow trying to understand, and doing better than anyone ever had before.

She saw him lying on the dirt floor, curled against the chill, rain pattering on the roof of an abandoned hut. She saw him rising into the air as a helicopter bore him away for who knew how long, perhaps never to be seen again.

She saw herself falling in love with him. Falling so deep she knew there was no way out. She had known it in Kolkata. She knew it now.

She breathed deep of the jasmine and opened her eyes. Avengers Tower rose up against the fading light of the sun. She sighed and dropped the hand that had been worrying the leather straps against the inside of her wrist.

Damn it.

She got the jacket out of her bag and began the slow trudge home.

* * *

Tony had ordered Chinese takeout. Bruce had never felt less hungry in his life. Tony didn't push him. They sat at the table in the dining area, Tony wolfing down everything in his box, a tablet propped up next to him, tapping and running algorithms, while Bruce poked listlessly at his noodles. It was dark. The picture windows were glowing with the light from the traffic below. Bruce pulled a long string of noodles from the box and let it drop.

"She's coming back," Tony said, not even looking up from his tablet, "I mean, unless she plans to sleep on a park bench. She hasn't used her credit card since she left, so no hotels or-"

"You checked her credit card?" Bruce asked, feeling as if he should be indignant on her behalf, but barely able to conjure up a tone of vague interest.

"What?" Tony asked, "It's _my_ credit card! I have the right to see where my money is going-"

"And that didn't set off any bells in your head?" Bruce asked, stirring his noodles again, "Like, 'I might be an abusive stalker' bells?"

"I just wanted to see if she was okay, alright?"

Bruce glanced up, but Tony was still pointedly _not_ looking at him. Bruce's eyes dropped back to his noodles.

"She's too smart for that," he muttered half-heartedly, "I'm sure she's got cash."

Tony didn't answer.

"It's better anyway," Bruce went on, trying to say the words out loud, hoping it would make them feel true, "It's too dangerous here, what with Hydra, and the scepter, and...me."

Tony still didn't answer. His fingers weren't moving on the tablet anymore. Bruce swallowed.

"It's better this way," he said firmly, pushing away from the table and taking his box of noodles to the fridge, "It's better-"

The elevator chimed and the door slid open. The noodles slipped from his fingers, and before they hit the floor he was moving. She had barely stepped from the elevator and he had his arms around her, fingers clutching at the jacket that smelled of jasmine and chai. He pressed kisses to her cheeks, her hair, her forehead, wherever he could reach. Then he wrapped himself around her again and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'm still pissed at you," she muttered.

"I know," he whispered, sounding more relieved then he had any right to be, "I know, I know."

He did know. He knew this wasn't going to be all that was said. He had quite a bit to say himself. But right now, right this second? This was the most important thing in the universe.

"See?" Tony said, sounding smug, "Told you she'd be back."

Alice pulled back far enough to glare at Tony around Bruce's shoulder.

"I'm pissed at you too, asshole."

"You gonna demonstrate that to me in the same way?"

This earned him a stiff middle finger and a punch to the arm as he sauntered past.

"Ow! That's it, I'm heading down to the workshop. Get a room, you two!"

And before either of them could respond, he disappeared into the elevator.

"He is such a jerk," Alice muttered, but she was smiling a little.

Bruce bent down and kissed her, long, slow, memorizing the sensation of it. Just in case.

"Alice," he said, when he could finally speak, "I know you're pissed. And we're gonna talk about it. But..."

He saw something flicker in her eyes, an old familiar fear and he paused, determined to tread carefully. He was in dangerous territory.

"I know the day will come-" he said finally, "-when you'll go. One way or another, I know that. But...when that day comes, _promise me_ you won't just disappear. I couldn't stand it, the not knowing. It's worse than..."

He couldn't say the rest. Not right now, but the fear had faded from Alice's eyes. She put her head against his shoulder again and hugged him close.

"Never again," she whispered, "I promise."

* * *

They did talk, then. Alice had known they would. Bruce wasn't one to just let something go, not when he knew it had bothered her. So they sat together in their room, holding hands, and Alice tried to put into words what she had felt.

"It was like...knowing that you had heard everything I was saying, but you thought I wasn't smart enough to understand it, even though it was coming out of my own mouth."

Bruce shook his head, rubbing small circles on the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

"That wasn't it at all," he said, "I just...didn't want to get your hopes up, not before we knew. And I didn't see any reason to put you in a situation that might be dangerous on a hunch."

"Do you really think I didn't know it might be dangerous?" she asked, feeling her anger swell again, "Is that supposed to help me believe you don't think I'm stupid?"

"You're not!" Bruce insisted, then took a breath to calm himself, "You're not stupid, Alice. You're one of the most independent thinking people I know. You think of things other people don't even consider. It's why you're gonna be a great nurse. It's why I wanted you to go to med school."

Alice rolled her eyes. This was an old argument, so old that it wasn't even an argument anymore. Nursing had been the compromise, and Alice was happy with it, even if Bruce still thought she was wasting potential.

"You keep saying that, but what you're doing isn't proving it," Alice said, "You see that, right?"

Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he muttered, guiltily.

"I know," she said, "But I assumed the risks when I made the suggestion. And it...sort of felt like you stole my idea. And I know that sounds petty and dumb, but it...hurt."

To her surprise, he nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing both her hands in his, "Yeah, I get that."

"I just want to be involved," Alice said, "I'm not asking to be in the room or anything, not yet. I mean, I saw Klara. She was... She was amazing. I've never seen anything like it."

"We're still processing the numbers," Bruce said, his expression brightening as scientific data entered the discussion, "I'm not sure we'll ever completely understand what happened in there. It's definitely more than...whatever Thor was telling us about her power. It...felt different with her there. Like she was really _speaking_ to him. And he was _listening_. It was like he... _respected_ her, respected how she responded to him. In a weird way, I feel like I understand how Loki might have been brought under her sway. She has a presence..."

Again, Alice tried not to feel the pang of jealousy. She'd never been given the opportunity to connect with this part of Bruce. She was never allowed anywhere near the Other Guy. She swallowed the emotion back and tried to see Bruce's fascination for what it was: scientific interest. Klara was an anomaly, a puzzle to be solved. If there was one thing Bruce loved, it was a puzzle.

"I know," she said when she could trust her voice again, "He clearly connected with her. I'm not gonna mess with that. I just want to...be there. I mean, this is a _huge_ deal. I want to be a part of it."

Bruce sighed and took her face in his hands.

"Yeah," he said, "You're right. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you."

Alice smiled.

"It's okay," she said, "Learning every day, aren't we?"

"Always," he agreed, pulling her into a hug, "You're my favorite puzzle."

It was the best thing he could have said.

* * *

 **A/N:** *sigh* I can't help it, I love these two idiots ;D


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I just want to take a second to thank everyone for all the nice comments on the last chapter :) You guys are the best! Alright, that's it, let's get going!

 **Chapter Seven**

"So," Tony asked, hopping over the back of the couch and settling next to Bruce, "What's in the box for tonight?"

Alice smiled, clutching her newly wrapped Movie Night Suggestion Box to her chest. The second night was looking to be as much of a success as the first. Clint wasn't with them (still on his self-imposed "vacation") and Sam was gone this week, but Maria had decided joined them, which was a nice surprise. It was incredibly rare to see her outside of work, much less in sweats and sharing a box of popcorn with Nat. Klara was sitting with Thor, looking pleased and alert despite having spent most of the week being poked and prodded by Bruce and Tony. They had gotten a lot of base data, but it would take some time to process, leaving them all free for movie night. Steve hadn't made it yet, but he had assured her that he would be there, and to start without him if he was running late.

Alice shook the box and then tore open the top.

"JARVIS?"

"Thor of Asgard."

The Asgardian prince looked as if he'd just been given the greatest honor in the Nine Realms. He stuffed his hand into the offered box with unbridled enthusiasm, swirling the random pieces of paper and drawing one with excited anticipation.

"Ah!" he said, handing it to Alice, "Is this one of those Midgardian animal films? A documentary, perhaps?"

The paper said "Reservoir Dogs".

"Yes!" Tony exclaimed, pumping both fists in the air, "Tarantino is a god! I mean, not _literally_ , of course. Unless...is he?"

"I have not heard of this Tarantino," Thor answered, and Tony's face fell just a little bit, "But I am sure any Midgardian playwright that meets with Tony Stark's approval must be a fine man indeed."

"You might wait until you've seen the movie before you pass that judgment," Maria said, tossing a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

"You shut your face, Hill," Tony said, pointing an accusing finger back over the couch at her, "I will hear no bad word spoken of the great Quentin Tarantino under my roof!"

"JARVIS, are we ready?" Alice asked, "I don't want a fight to break out before we even start."

"I agree, Miss Ripley," JARVIS said, "Ready when you are."

"Hit the lights."

Alice again wriggled in between Bruce and Tony, stealing the popcorn and Tony's drink from his hand with no resistance. She was still a little pissed at him for helping Bruce keep such a monumental secret, but the guy had been _'apologizing'_ to the best of his ability for three days: ribbing her slightly less than usual, taking her out for her flying practice while Clint was gone, giving her first dibs on his snacks. Alice had to admit that she was coming around, but she planned to milk it at least through tonight.

As the opening credits started, the door clicked open and Steve slipped inside.

"Hey man, great timing, you were about to miss one of the best movies of all time!" Tony said.

"Oh really?" Steve asked, flopping onto a nearby couch, "Better than Casablanca?

"Goddamnit, Cap, why'd you have to bring Bogey into this?" Tony asked, sounding miffed, "You know that man is in a category all his own."

"Just assessing the terrain," Steve said, glancing around, "Did I miss the popcorn?"

"Seriously, are you guys gonna talk through this _whole_ movie?" Nat asked.

That shut them up, though Steve still looked disappointed by his lack of popcorn. Alice was about to offer him some of hers when she sensed movement in the dim light. Klara appeared on completely silent feet, a bag of popcorn and a drink in her hands. She touched Steve's shoulder, and he jumped, then blinked as Klara wordlessly pressed the food and drink into his hands.

"I...thanks."

Klara dipped him a small curtsy and left as silently as she had come, slipping through the shadows back to Thor's side. The Asgardian grinned at the girl and draped his arm with a sense of protective pride. Klara didn't seem to notice. She sat very straight in her seat, hands clasped in her lap, eyes fixed on the screen. Alice rolled her eyes and settled back into Bruce's side.

It actually wasn't a terrible movie. Alice didn't even see all the twists coming, and even though the end was gory and a little depressing, it could have been worse, for a Tony-movie. It wasn't until she saw Klara standing to leave without a word, almost running from the room, that she realized...and suddenly she was _so_ pissed at Tony she could have kicked him. Of all the movies to put in, he had to pick the one with a _'traitor-in-their-midst, everybody-dies'_ theme. Was he playing some kind of bullshit game?

Thor made his apologies and followed Klara out. For a second it looked like Steve might go too, but at the last minute, he changed his mind. Alice turned to glare at Tony, who looked completely baffled.

"What was that?" he asked, "The blood, you think?"

Alice gaped at him, and then rubbed her forehead, where she could feel a headache forming.

"Jesus," she muttered, "You really _are_ a complete idiot."

"What?" he asked, still looking genuinely confused, "What did I do now?"

"Really?" Steve asked, looking skeptical, "A team betrayed from the inside? You don't have _any_ idea what might have upset her?"

"Well, if I-" It hit him then. Alice could see it hit him like a drink to the face. "-oh."

"Yeah," Alice said, " _Oh_."

"Jesus, Stark, even _I_ have more tact," Nat said, rolling to her feet and stretching like a cat, "I mean, I don't necessarily _like_ her, but we gotta work together. Maybe go a little more subtle with the jabs to her integrity next time?"

"No, wait, I didn't even mean it!" Tony insisted, "I swear! I'll just go tell her I didn't mean-"

"I wouldn't go telling her anything tonight, Stark," Steve said, getting up to follow Nat, "But tomorrow? I would suggest an apology if you can manage to get that past your ego."

Maria didn't say anything, just rolled her eyes and followed Steve, leaving Alice, Tony, and Bruce alone in the rec room. Tony buried his face in his hands and groaned.

"Damn it," he said, "We were just starting to get somewhere with the numbers too."

Bruce rolled his eyes and got up, holding out his hand for Alice.

"God, Tony, is _everything_ about you?" he asked.

And with that, they left Tony behind to mope.

* * *

"He didn't mean anything by it."

Klara stopped at the door to her room, her fingers on the handle. She did not look up, though she could hear Lord Thor's approach. She could not bear to look at him.

"Didn't he?" she asked, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice, "Perhaps not intentionally, no. But there is some part of him...of all of them..."

She broke off and shut her eyes, forcing her tears aside. She felt Lord Thor's hand on her shoulder, large and warm, solid and comforting.

"You are not their enemy, Klara," he said, "They will learn to see it, in time. You must have faith in them."

Klara swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked up. He was smiling at her so kindly. Far too kindly. If he knew the secret she kept from him, the secret that would end whatever familiar camaraderie they now shared...the secret she was too afraid to tell. There was too much in her life, in _both_ their lives, that was unfamiliar. She could not bear to sacrifice this on the altar of honesty. Perhaps she never would.

"Good night, my lord." She dipped him a curtsy, proper for one of her station to a prince of the Nine Realms, and retreated to her room.

* * *

Alice didn't sleep well that night, plagued by more nightmares, things that hadn't happened, of gods and monsters...

 _Hello again, Miss Ripley..._

She was up before Bruce, a rarity in their lives. She dressed and went up to the penthouse kitchen for a bowl of cornflakes. Nat was at the table sipping a cup of coffee, but only nodded in acknowledgment of Alice's presence, not even looking up from her phone. Alice wasn't sure if she would have preferred more interaction with the super-spy or not. Even in sweats and a tank top Natasha Romanov was, without a doubt, the scariest person Alice had ever met. And Alice had met the god of mischief bent on conquering the Earth. She sprinkled some sugar over her cornflakes and sat on the opposite end of the table.

After about twenty minutes, the elevator chimed and Thor stepped out, making a beeline for the cabinet where the Poptarts were kept. He was alone.

"Where's Klara?" Alice asked, slurping the milk out of her bowl in an attempt to sound casual.

"I chose not to disturb her this morning," Thor said, not looking up to meet her eyes, focusing on the toaster instead.

Alice made a noncommittal _'hmm'_ and finished her cereal. She wasn't sure how she should feel about that. She never really knew how she should feel about Klara. Ever since the Dungeon, she couldn't help the tiny twinge of resentment when she thought about how poised the girl had been when faced with the thing that by rights should have been Alice's burden to bear. Logically, she understood it, of course. It made sense that Klara should be the one to face the Hulk. But still...still...

 _"...back in Queensland..."_

Alice got up, put her bowl in the sink, and headed for the elevator, pressing the button for Thor's floor.

* * *

Klara was considering staying in bed for the rest of the day. There was nothing to prevent her. She had heard Lord Thor's quiet, unobtrusive knock upon her door, but she had ignored it. He had left without any other prompting, and she knew he would not disturb her again.

Which was why it was such a surprise to hear another, more insistent knock. She frowned and called out "Just a moment!" before she even considered that she could easily have ignored this prompting as well. Too late now. She rolled to her feet and padded across the floor, opening the door a crack. Alice Ripley stood in the hallway, shifting from foot to foot in a pair of worn jeans, athletic shoes, and a thick, hooded tunic which proclaimed _'My other shirt is also a hoodie'_.

"Hi," the girl said, giving a little wave, "I thought we might take off for the day."

Klara stared at her blankly for another few moments before she realized what a mess she must look with her hair in a state, her rumpled sleepwear, her bare feet.

"Oh," was all she managed to say, before her manners trumped her embarrassment and she opened the door the rest of the way, "Please, come in."

The girl stepped inside without hesitation, looking around Klara's room with interest.

"Nice view," she said, indicating the large windows which were just now opening automatically to the mid-morning sun, "Bruce and I have a westward suite, so we don't get the sunrise. I'm alright with that, considering how late he gets in some nights. We're not usually early risers."

"I apologize that I am not more adequately prepared for guests," Klara said, tidying some random bit of flotsam on her dressing table and smoothing at her flannel tunic and leggings, "I fear my understanding of Midgardian time can sometimes get confused and-"

Alice was already waving away her protests, settling cross-legged into one of the cushioned chairs as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"No worries," she said, "I was antsy, woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I guess I should have called first, but...you know, I honestly didn't even think of it. I guess since we live in the same building, I think of us more like roommates than neighbors."

She smiled again, gripping her ankles and rocking a bit, the morning light catching the bobble on her wrist. Klara had never seen her without it, a twisted braid of leather straps holding two golden bands together. Klara's hand unconsciously lifted to the silver chain at her collarbone but paused before she could complete the movement, moving her fingers to her hair instead, trying to smooth it down.

"I fear I might keep you from your plans today, Alice."

"No plans," Alice said, rocking back to inspect the ceiling, "Just thought we could take care of some errands, get out of the Tower for a while. You said you needed new shoes, right?"

Klara balked. Oh...her training. Would Captain Rogers...? Would he still...?

 _"You are not their enemy, Klara."_

Lord Thor's voice echoed in her head. She looked at Alice, sitting expectantly before her, that perpetual smile on her face. Did Alice think she was an enemy? She couldn't imagine it to be so. But Alice had also proven herself, time and again, to be the outlier, the one that did not do as others did. What would Darcy say...a _'free-spirit'_? Yes, that fit Alice Ripley very well. But it also made it unlikely that any of the others felt the same as she did, which was a discouraging thought.

Klara blinked and realized Alice was still waiting for an answer.

"Yes," she said, drawing herself up and clasping her hands behind her to solidify her resolve, "I do need new shoes."

After all, even if Captain Rogers did not choose to continue her training himself, she could still practice on her own. And showing up for training in sandaled or slippered feet did not sound like something one generally did.

"Great!" Alice said, "Then get dressed, something for the city. No offense but, do you even own a pair of jeans?"

Klara could not help her flinch of distaste.

"I like to be comfortable," she said, "The material you Midgardians call "denim" is stiff and limits mobility. One cannot even perform a proper curtsy in it."

Alice seemed to consider this, then shrugged. "Fair point. But if you have any Midgardian clothes, it might work out better. You don't exactly blend in."

She grinned with what Klara might have called genuine kindness. She could not help but return the expression and found that she felt lighter for it.

Once they were out of the Tower and walking the city, Klara discovered, to her surprise, she was actually enjoying herself. Alice was not like Darcy Lewis, in that she did not like to spend an inordinate amount of time in shops. She liked to go in, try things until something fit, purchase, and move on, her unflappable enthusiasm pulling her ever onward and tugging Klara in her wake. She also was not a person who liked a lot of frills or fanciful bobbles, and so she did not try to force such things on Klara, for which she was very grateful. Darcy had very much been an advocate of what she called _'shopping therapy',_ in which one bought things to make one feel better. Klara did not understand it at all. She had never cared to have many possessions, even less so now that she was essentially in exile. She found Alice's low-pressure approach to shopping (what she liked to call _'get what you need and get out'_ ) an infinitely more pleasant experience.

"I guess we could have waited until Black Friday," Alice said, as they sat on a bench in Central Park, enjoying sausage meats and toppings on buns ( _'hot dogs'_ though Alice assured her there was not, in fact, any canine present in the meat, as far as she knew), "The deals would have been better, but the crowds are a bitch. The way I see it, Tony owes you after last night anyway, and we're using his money, so deals and crowds be damned!"

Klara chewed thoughtfully and surveyed their purchases, arrayed in colorful bags at their feet. She still wasn't fully apprised of Midgardian monetary value (she was under the impression that it was quite complicated and varied greatly by region, which was baffling to her), but she now imagined that what they had amassed today was worth quite a sum. She had not considered it while they were in the midst of it, but now she wondered...

"Will he be very upset?" she asked.

Alice snorted.

"He won't even realize it's missing. This little piece of plastic-" She held up the thing Klara knew to be a _'credit card'_. "-it's got no limit. That's what he considers _'living expenses'_. That's _actually_ what he called it! He's such an ass."

The girl shook her head and tucked the card back in her pocket.

"Hell, he'll probably just be thrilled that I'm using it. He's always telling me to, like his money's got an expiration date on it or something."

"Perhaps it is his way of showing that he cares for your well-being," Klara said, "Making sure you are provided for."

Alice rolled her eyes and swallowed her bite of sausage.

"I can provide for myself," she said, "In fact, I tried to, but everybody got their panties in a twist about it. Said it was _'dangerous'-_ " She did quote motions in the air with her fingers. "-with everyone knowing where I live and who I live with. Not that I'm all that much safer in the Tower, turns out."

She was touching her wrist, pressing the gold bands into her skin, but then she seemed to realize she was doing it and dropped her hands.

"So they started trying to keep me busy," she said, shrugging, "First with school, and now flying on top of that. Not that I mind all that much, I guess. I like flying, and the nursing will make me useful at least."

"They must care about you very much," Klara said, suddenly feeling the loss of those who might have made similar provisions for her... Daven... Lady Frigga...

Elli...

"Some days I think I could do with them caring just a little bit less," Alice said. She was smirking, but her tone spoke of a long-held bitterness. "I was good at taking care of myself before, learning to make do, staying under the radar. I worry that all this high living's gonna make me lose my edge, you know?"

Klara wasn't sure she _did_ know. Once you had such assurances, why would you ever want to return to living without them? It was a puzzle and something of it must have shown on her face, because Alice rolled her eyes, though she didn't seem upset.

"No," she said, "I guess not. It's okay, most people don't get it. Bruce does, I think. It's hard to explain, but I think I've gotten used to waiting for the worst to happen. And it's weird, not running anymore."

She was gripping her wrist again, her gaze fading into the distance of her mind. Klara wondered what those bobbles meant to her. Would she ever work up the courage to ask? She touched the silver chain around her neck and knew she didn't dare.

Alice blinked and grinned, tossing her wrapper into a trash bin and picking some of the bags from the fitness store they had visited earlier.

"Come on," she said, "We can still check out the bathing suits and maybe pick up a couple of pizzas on our way back. That oughta put everybody in a good mood."

Klara smiled and tossed her own wrapper, grabbing the rest of the bags. Lord Thor was quite fond of pizza, he would be very pleased if they returned with pizzas in tow.

* * *

 **A/N:** I feel like this is the second angst-heavy chapter in a row...don't worry, next chapter will be better! I promise! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The next morning, Klara reported to Dr. Banner's lab for another round of testing. Her shoulders were a bit stiff from last night's training, and there were sore spots on her feet (Captain Rogers had assured her this would pass once her new shoes were properly _'broken in'_ ), but it was nothing she couldn't mask behind her usual servant's facade. She entered the lab with set shoulders and chin uplifted, ready to face whatever the Midgardian scientists might throw at her.

Alice was sitting in the corner, paper coffee cup in hand and head bent over a rather large book, a pen tapping a rapid staccato on a pad of paper. Klara blinked. Alice had not been here for her previous tests. She wondered what sort of changes her presence might portend. Dr. Banner was engrossed in something flitting across his transparent screen and had not noticed Klara's entrance. Leaving only Tony Stark, who jumped to his feet as if someone had prodded him with an electric jolt and then attempted to lean casually against one of the metal lab tables.

"Klara!" he blurted out, with an inordinate amount of good cheer, "Klara, Klara, what a great morning, isn't it a great morning? I mean, you slept well, right? You've been sleeping well, your room is okay, your...everything?"

He made a general motion with his free hand that Klara supposed was meant to encompass the whole of her accommodations in the Tower. Her brow furrowed the tiniest bit at his erratic behavior, but she dipped her head in acknowledgment.

"Yes, I am quite well provided for, Mr. Stark, thank you."

"Great!" he said, jerking upright and clapping his hands together, rubbing them vigorously, "That's great, really, I mean, I should have asked _before_ , I guess, before now I mean, just, you know, I figured you'd tell...someone, I don't know who. Thor? Maybe? Do you tell him things? He doesn't tell me anything, that's for sure."

Klara could feel the furrow in her brow deepening the further Mr. Stark delved into this monologue. He had said barely ten words to her during their previous encounters, preferring instead to direct his thoughts and queries of interest to Dr. Banner. She wasn't quite sure what she should do at this juncture. Was he attempting jest? It was difficult to tell sometimes, his prolific use of irony and sarcasm made him a hard man to read.

"He's trying to apologize."

Alice's voice cut through Stark's ramblings like a laser-point. The girl looked up from her book and smiled at Klara.

"He's not very good at it," she explained, "But he's trying to apologize for offending you with his movie choice."

"I was not offended," Klara said, remembering only a few seconds after to direct her attention back to Mr. Stark, "Your thoughts and opinions are your own, and I do not fault you for them. It was quite clever, actually, to express them in such a manner."

"Passive-aggressive, you mean," Alice muttered, sipping her coffee.

"I wasn't expressing an opinion!" Mr. Stark insisted, glaring at Alice before returning his gaze to Klara, "Not about you, anyway. I mean, it is a great movie. But come on, you are _way_ too hot to be Mr. Orange."

Klara blinked. Alice rolled her eyes.

"Really, Tony?"

"Well, it's true!"

"He really isn't very good at this, is he?" Klara asked.

Alice smirked and leaned back, coffee in hand. "No. No, he's not. But honestly, this is the best you're gonna get."

"Well, in that case-" Klara dipped a deep, respectful curtsy. "-Mr. Stark, I would like to accept your apology and to offer my own for falsely attributing thoughts to you that you may not have meant to express. Please, let us think no more on it during our continued acquaintance."

Tony Stark glanced around as if she might be speaking to someone else. Then he blinked at her for an awkward moment.

"So...we're good?" He gave her a tentative thumbs up. Klara smiled.

"Yes. We are good."

"Awesome!" he said, grinning delightedly, "Then you can take off your shirt, and we can get started!"

"Tony!" Alice snapped, as once again all Klara could do was stare.

"What he means is-" Dr. Banner said, speaking for the first time, but never taking his eyes from the screen, "-he and I are going to leave the room while Alice sets you up with some sensors to monitor your vitals and stats during normal daily activity."

"For which you will have to take off your shirt," Stark said, holding up a sheet of clear adhesive patches, "Is that not what I said?"

"Get out," Alice said, snatching the patches out of his hand and pointing to the door, "Before you do any more damage."

"Yes, Mom," Tony said, smirking and throwing a wink at Klara as he sauntered out of the room.

Klara watched him go, feeling...baffled. She turned back to see Dr. Banner shaking his head with a fond smile.

"Yeah, he's like that," he said, swiping the data off his screen and tucking his glasses up into his mop of curls, "Better get used to it."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and edged past her out of the room as well, air hissing as the door sealed behind him. Klara turned to Alice, who merely rolled her eyes and moved to tap on the screen the doctor had just vacated. The glass walls turned an opaque white all around, like being enclosed inside a giant egg.

"There," she said, "Privacy. Now you can remove your shirt."

Klara did as she was bid and stood very still as Alice carefully placed the thin plastic adhesive to her skin in various locations, her torso, her arms, one on her neck at a pulse point, one on the back of her hand, one at each temple. Finally, the girl stood back and surveyed her work with quick, thorough eyes, before nodding and stepping back to the screen.

"Alright," she said, after a series of taps and monitoring the readouts on the screen, "Try to...act normal for a second."

Klara furrowed her brow and felt the sensors crinkle at her temples.

"Act normal?"

"Yeah, you know, talk," Alice said, waving a hand as if to spur her on, "Like, I don't know, how was boxing with Steve?"

Klara straightened a bit and her face smoothed instantly. She started to clasp her hands behind her, hesitated, then remembered she was supposed to act _'normal'_ and followed through with the motion.

"It went well," she said, "He is very patient with me."

Alice nodded, though her eyes never left the screen.

"Yeah, he's a good guy." She gave the screen a few swipes. "A good guy who's had a couple of really shitty years. Just when he starts to think he's got things figured out, something else happens."

"You sound as if you've spoken with him," Klara said, curious despite herself.

"A little," Alice said, picking up the tablet Mr. Stark had left behind and tapping it a few times to bring the screen to life, "Not as much as you would think. He's been...busy. With stuff."

"Stuff?"

Alice looked up and considered her for a minute. Then she shook her head and dropped her gaze back to the tablet.

"Not my stuff to tell," she said, "But he likes you. He'll tell you in his own time."

Klara's brow furrowed deeply then, almost a frown.

"Likes me?"

"Sure," Alice said, her gaze flicking back and forth between the tablet and the screen.

"Forgive me, Alice, but I think the only Midgardian in this Tower who does more than tolerate me, is you."

Alice paused in the midst of making an adjustment on the large screen and stared at Klara.

"You really believe that, don't you?"

Klara dropped her gaze to her folded hands.

"It's quite alright," she said, "I'm not naive enough to believe that Clint Barton is the only one with...doubts."

There was a small pause and then she heard a few muted taps on the screens.

"Well, Steve likes you, whether you think so or not," Alice said, "And Bruce likes you too. And you're wearing Tony down. After all, you're helping with science. He can't help but like you for that alone."

She made a last flourish on the big screen and turned to face Klara, hands on her hips.

"Alright, that should do it. Everything feel good?"

Experimentally, Klara raised her arms and twisted her torso, testing the adhesive. It felt strange as it folded and stretched with her skin but then settled as soon as she relaxed with no adverse effects.

"I believe so," she said, inspecting the patch on the back of her hand. She could barely see the sheen of it against her skin. "I thought electricity required wires. I see nothing of that here."

"That's because the mesh is too fine," Alice assured her, "The actual sensors are minuscule, you're mostly seeing adhesive there. They'll monitor your heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity, breathing, hell when you swallow it'll know."

"And this is all necessary to help Dr. Banner?" Klara asked, skeptical.

"Well, it's necessary to understand you as best we can," Alice said, shrugging and handing Klara back her tunic, "And that might help Bruce, yes."

Klara pulled the tunic over her head and smoothed it down. "You are very knowledgeable about these things for one so young."

Alice rolled her eyes and keyed the glass to become transparent once more.

"That's what I'm doing all this damn studying for," she said, waving at the large book she had been pouring over, "Helping with stuff like this. I'll probably end up playing Avengers' school nurse most of the time, but I'm okay with that. At least it's useful."

Mr. Stark was in the room in less than a heartbeat, sliding in behind the transparent screen and taking the tablet smoothly from Alice's outstretched hand.

"You ran the calibrations?" he asked, all business, his eyes following the streams of data on the dual screens with astonishing quickness.

"Yes," Alice said, with exaggerated patience, "Everything is within one-hundredth of a percentile. Just like you told me."

"And nothing was loose?" he asked, "Nothing stuck out, nothing that might give a false positive or-?"

"Nope," Alice said, her arms crossing with a small smile, "All present and accounted for. She even ran a movement test."

"Good," Stark said absently, still paging through data, "Good."

Dr. Banner had entered the room as well and was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching Alice with a look that could only be interpreted as pure pride and adoration. It was so naked on his features that Klara felt the need to avert her eyes.

"Is there...anything else?" she asked, feeling as if she should be patient, but also awkward and out of place.

"Nope," Mr. Stark said, his eyes never leaving the screen, "Go about your day as usual. If anything comes loose or feels weird let us know, but other than that, you should be good."

Klara dipped her head and left as quietly as she could. She doubted anyone even noticed.

* * *

Alice settled onto the couch next to Bruce in the lounge, resting her chin on his shoulder. The sun was coloring the evening sky in orange and purple along the glittering tops of the Manhattan skyline, and it was one of those increasingly rare moments when they were completely alone. Klara was back in the gym with Steve, Thor and Tony were both on long-overdue check-in calls with their respective girlfriends, and Nat was nowhere to be found. Alice watched the data scrolling across the tablet in Bruce's hand for a minute but didn't really comprehend any of the information she was seeing.

"So," she said, "Do I get my favorite scientist all to myself tonight? No pending experiments or world-changing breakthroughs?"

He glanced up at her over his glasses, a tiny smirk touching the corners of his lips.

"I guess that depends on what you had in mind."

Alice leaned forward and kissed him in answer.

"I guess you had a good day?" Bruce said, powering down his tablet and settling back on the couch cushions with her.

"I did, actually," Alice said, snuggling down into his arms, "Tony and I took the quinjet for a spin around Lady Liberty, we got to wave at some tourists so that was fun."

"I'm glad," Bruce said, pressing a kiss to her temple, "You deserve to have more good days."

"We all do," Alice agreed, a niggling little thought working its way back to the front of her mind, "Klara doesn't think we like her."

Bruce sighed and tightened his arms around her.

"Time, Alice," he whispered into her hair, "Give it time."

He was right. Alice knew he was right. But that night Alice dreamed, not of gods and monsters, but of blood shining in the moonlight and screams in the dark, an old familiar nightmare. And as she lay awake, shaking and gripping her wrist so tightly it hurt, she couldn't help remembering that time did not always wait. She was always running out of time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The night before Thanksgiving, Tony announced to the team that they would be cooking their own dinner. In the Tower. Together.

"Team building! Right, Cap?" he said, clapping Steve on the shoulder, "I've already got the recipes picked out! I ordered the food! Our kitchen is totally stocked and ready to go!"

"You're insane," Nat said, leaning her hip against the counter, arms crossed, the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips.

"You're in charge of the potatoes!"

"Midgard has an entire day dedicated to giving thanks?" Klara asked, "Why have we not celebrated this before? Is it only on certain years?"

"It's not celebrated everywhere," Steve explained, sounding like he was still trying to process Tony's big announcement (and think of a way out of it), "It's a time to remember how much we've gone through to get to where we are."

"And the people we stepped on to get there," Bruce muttered, and Alice snorted a laugh. Bruce put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

"Come on, what's everyone look so worried for?" Tony said, still sounding way too happy about this endeavor, "I gave you guys the easy parts. I'm doing the turkey!"

Everyone groaned. It was official. They were screwed.

* * *

It was official. They were screwed.

Alice dropped her head down to the table, covering it with her arms. Everything was on fire. Or at least had been at some point. Natasha was the only one that hadn't managed to burn anything, but that was only because she had point-blank refused to actually _cook_ the potatoes. Alice lifted her head and peeked at the blackened mass that was supposed to be green bean casserole.

"I don't even like green beans," she grumbled, "Or onion strings. How did I get talked into this?"

Bruce didn't answer, only put an arm around her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Is it supposed to be so...sweet?"

That was Klara's voice. She and Thor had been put in charge of the sweet potatoes, and Thor had gone a little wild with the marshmallows, under the impression that more was always better. They had bubbled over, coagulating in the bottom of the oven, and causing the second fire of the night. Tony was currently putting out the fourth. He and what was left of his turkey were now covered in fire suppression foam, and he was surveying the damage with the wild look of a man who still thought he could make it to work on time, even though he was supposed to be there five minutes ago.

"This was the best idea ever," Nat said, popping a handful of onion strings in her mouth from the open can.

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated," Tony said, running a hand through his foamed hair and making it stick up at weird angles.

"You realize I've never actually baked a pie, right? Apple or otherwise?" Steve said, quirking an eyebrow. He was covered head to toe in flour, his sleeves rolled up (not that it had saved them) and poking at the lump of what was supposed to be pie crust on the counter. It crumbled at his touch.

Tony waved a hand in his direction without looking at him. "It's American. You know, American as apple pie? How could you go wrong?"

"Oh, so many ways," Steve said, poking at his crumbly crust again.

Alice couldn't help it. She giggled. She tried to bury her face in her arms again to hide it, but once she started she couldn't stop. Apparently, it was contagious, because she felt Bruce start vibrating with laughter beside her, and then Steve was laughing, and Thor, and Klara, and eventually even Tony broke down into slightly mad-sounding cackles.

That was how Pepper found them, bent over, nearly crying from laughter, smothered in smoke and fire suppression foam.

"Did I miss the party already?"

"Pepper!" Alice shouted in delighted, breathless surprise, "Thank god you're here! Tony's trying to facilitate our deaths by forcing us to cook!"

"Well, we can't have that," Pepper said with a small, self-satisfied grin. She touched a finger to her ear. "Bring 'em up, Happy."

A few seconds later, an armada of men and women carrying armloads of boxes exited the elevator, directed by a large man with an old-style security earpiece. From the containers wafted the most delicious smells Alice's nose had ever had the pleasure of detecting.

"Pepper Potts, I could kiss you," Alice said, leaning over the table and taking a big whiff of the fresh rolls.

"Me first!" Tony exclaimed, vaulting over the back of the lounge couch and grabbing Pepper around the waist, dipping her over in dramatic film style, and subsequently covering her in foam. She came back up laughing and smacked him on the shoulder.

"Okay, your turn," Tony said, turning to wink at Alice over his shoulder.

"You're an idiot," Pepper said, walking over to give Alice a big hug, either unaware or unconcerned with the foam and soot stains on her nice, cream business suit.

"I didn't know you were coming!" Alice said, "How long?"

"'Til the New Year, I think," Pepper said, "No point puttering around the LA office by myself when I can just as easily work from here."

A shadow briefly crossed her face and Alice thought she understood. Christmas was a bad time to be in LA. Alice smiled and squeezed her hands.

"I'm really glad you're here."

Pepper blinked and then smiled back. "Me too."

"This is really very generous of you, Miss Potts," Steve said, trying to brush the flour from his hands and out of his hair as he approached her, "Thank you."

"It's Pepper, Captain Rogers," she said, holding out her hand and taking his floury one with no hesitation, "And believe me, it's my pleasure."

"Oh right, there are people you need to meet," Tony said, putting an arm around Pepper's waist and turning her to face the rest of the room, "Everyone, this is Pepper! Pepper, everyone! Good, you're acquainted. Can we eat now?"

"Everything's ready, Miss Potts," Happy Hogan said, eying the group with a strange sort of protective suspicion, "Should I take up a post-?"

"You're gonna take up a post right in that chair, Hogan," Tony said, pointing to the now fully stocked table, complete with cornucopia even, "I haven't seen you in weeks, I want to hear about what happened with that nurse in rehab."

With his arm still glued around Pepper's waist, he took the other man by the sleeve of his suit jacket and steered him reluctantly to the mentioned chair. Everyone else settled around the table, and soon they were laughing again as they recounted various moments during the cooking debacle.

"Where's Clint?" Pepper asked, putting down her wine glass and wiping her eyes, "He seems like a sensible guy, didn't he at least _try_ to talk you out of it?"

There was a brief, awkward pause before Natasha spoke up.

"He's taking a vacation."

"Oh," Pepper said, glancing around the table and seeming to find meaning in the innocuous non-expressions, "Well that's good. Klara, how are you liking Midgard? Is it very different from Asgard? I'd like to hear a woman's perspective."

As always, Alice was astounded at the woman's ability to get straight to the root of a problem and still manage to tackle it with poise and grace. Klara looked up from her plate and blinked.

"Oh," she said, in that way she had when she was buying time, "I...like it very well, thank you. Your traditions and customs are quite different, of course, but I fear I had very little experience in the cultural norms of Asgard either. I was only ever a servant in the royal household."

Her eyes dropped back to her plate, pushing a green bean absently with her fork.

"Klara was quite well respected in my mother's service," Thor said pointedly as if trying to get Klara to see it as much as anyone, "But our social hierarchy is quite different from your own. We have seen only a small part of the larger Asgardian culture. We were both, as they say, living with blinders on. It has been an eye-opening experience to come to Midgard, where such things are not quite as universally agreed upon."

Klara nodded, though she did not look up from her plate.

"We went shopping!" Alice blurted out, and Pepper raised an eyebrow.

"You? Went shopping?"

Alice shrugged, but she couldn't quite contain her grin. "Klara needed new shoes."

"Klara, I'd like to take this opportunity to convey to you what a rare experience that was," Pepper said in a deadpan voice, "I've only ever been able to convince Alice to shop once, and that was because literally, every pair of jeans she owned were falling apart."

"They were comfortable!" Alice protested, "I'd just gotten the kinks worked out!"

"Along with the seams, and the knees, and the pocket of one ass-cheek, if I'm not mistaken," Pepper said smugly, lifting her glass for a sip.

"Like I said, _comfortable._ "

"I do not like denim," Klara confessed, giving Thor a glance out of the corner of her eye as she said it. The prince was well known to enjoy his jeans while he was slumming it on Midgard. "I don't find it very practical."

"It has to be the right pair," Pepper agreed, lifting her glass in salute of Klara's opinion, which made the girl's lips turn up a little, "But I prefer a good pantsuit myself."

"You're both crazy," Nat said, taking a swig from her own glass, "Jeans are God's way of telling us he loves us and wants us to be happy."

"Here, here!" Alice agreed, lifting her glass.

"Khakis," Bruce said, his eyes twinkling as Alice turned to stare at him, "If I have a choice."

"Traitor," Alice grumbled, but then his lips demanded to be kissed and she couldn't say no.

It was a good night. Everyone ate until they were stuffed, even Thor and Steve (which was always a feat). They laughed, and joked, and...it hit Alice sometime after her third glass of wine. Thor was telling a particularly rousing tale involving a bilgesnipe and a barrel of ale. Everyone was laughing. Everyone was happy. It was Thanksgiving, and it felt like...they were a family.

Her stomach twisted and she lurched to her feet, off-balance from the food and the wine. She put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, keeping herself upright and him in his seat.

"Alice?"

"I'm alright," she announced to the table in general, shaking her head and forcing a smile for them. They looked so worried. Like they cared. Her stomach rebelled again and she stumbled away from the table, waving a hand behind her. "I'm alright, just... I'll be back."

She got into the elevator and scrambled for the button, pressing a few different ones as she tried to find the right floor. Her vision blurred and her throat closed up. She was gonna be sick. She was gonna pass out. There were the echoes of screams and she slid down the elevator wall, curled up in the corner, covered her ears and shut her eyes. But that only made it worse because the screams were coming from the dark inside her head. She could see the blood in the moonlight.

"Jacob?" Her child's voice trembled in the dark. "Dad? Momma?"

Only it wasn't Jacob. It was her. Her blood. And it wasn't her voice. It was Tony. Tony the child, Tony the tinkerer, Tony the ass...

 _...that's what friends DO, Alice!_

It was Klara. Klara who was vulnerable, Klara who knew loss, Klara who didn't believe...

 _...the only Midgardian in this Tower who does more than tolerate me, is you..._

It was Bruce...

"Alice?"

She sucked in a breath and looked up. The elevator doors were open and Bruce was crouched at the threshold, his eyes flicking rapidly over her, checking for injuries, checking for...who knew. The floor behind him was dark and Alice could see abandoned desks in the shadows.

"How did you find me?" she asked, her voice hoarse as if she'd been screaming. Had she been screaming? She couldn't remember.

"JARVIS called," he said, his voice gentle and smooth, "When you didn't get off the elevator."

Her chin started to tremble and she buried her face in her knees again. Even the damn AI cared too much.

"No one else is coming, are they?" she asked, her voice muffled. She couldn't handle trying to explain-

"I told them I would take care of it," he answered and Alice shuddered in relief, "No one followed me."

She was crying. That's why her throat felt sore. She was sobbing silently, rocking her feet, heel-toe, heel-toe, her shoulders heaving.

"I don't wanna hurt anyone," she said, loudly, defiantly, "I don't wanna hurt anyone, not like this. I can't. I can't."

Tony. Klara. Pepper. Clint. There were so many of them. And they didn't know, didn't understand...

The elevator shifted beneath her and then she was in his lap, cradled against his chest on the floor, his arms around her, his fingers in her hair.

"I know," Bruce murmured as she cried, "I know."

* * *

Klara tried not to worry. Really, she did. But no one had seen Alice Ripley since she had fled the dinner table last night except Dr. Banner, and all he would say after JARVIS had summoned him was that she had been 'overwhelmed'. Which seemed to Klara like some kind of code that she hadn't been given the means to decipher. She had considered visiting the girl this morning, as Alice had done for her once, but she had hesitated. It felt...like an imposition. Her concern only intensified when Dr. Banner appeared at Mr. Stark's 'emergency movie night' without Alice in tow.

"Where is she?" Stark asked, sounding annoyed, "How are we supposed to have movie night without our mistress of ceremonies?"

"She's not feeling well," Dr. Banner said, giving the other man a pointed look, "She said to carry on without her."

Mr. Stark looked as if he would have liked to argue, but then ultimately decided against it, throwing up his hands in a frustrated gesture.

"Fine! Executive decision: we're watching Miracle on 34th Street. Because it's the next best thing to a Thanksgiving movie, and because I say so."

"Which one?" Mr. Hogan asked from where he stood (at his own insistence) in the back of the room.

Stark gave him a blank stare.

"How dare you even ask that question, Hogan. I expect better from you. JARVIS!"

"Ready, sir."

"Hit the lights!"

As the movie began, Klara was surprised to see that it was devoid of color, shaded instead in tones of brown and gray.

"Holy shit, is that Maureen O'Hara?" Captain Rogers asked, suddenly upright, "What year-?"

"1947," Mr. Hogan said, sounding pleased with himself, "And yes, that is Maureen O'Hara, alongside a young Natalie Wood in her first major role."

"Oh."

The captain sat back again, but his eyes remained fixed on the screen with a strange mixture of furrowed brow and tense lips. Klara could sometimes see in the dim light that his expression was distant. Miss Romanov (who had taken to draping herself over him, in place of the missing Clint Barton) would hand him refreshments that he took, but would then hand back untouched. When the film ended, Klara realized that her divided attention had caused her to miss a great portion of it.

The party quickly scattered after the movie, and Klara followed Thor from the room, eager to change into her training clothes and make her way to the gymnasium. But as she watched Doctor Banner enter the second elevator, alone and in silence, she felt a resurgence of anxiety for her...was she a friend? Maybe not, but Klara had meant it when she said that Alice was perhaps the only Midgardian in the Tower who did more than simply tolerate her, which made her something special. Did the concern she felt for Captain Rogers mean that she had elevated him to that level as well? She didn't know. He did seem to tolerate her better than some. Was she now so desperate for any semblance of approval that she was willing to accept it even in the most basic of respects? There had been a time when she had needed acceptance from no one. When had she become this, a pathetic husk of her former self?

 _No longer mourn for me when I am dead..._

"You keep dropping your guard," Captain Rogers said, piercing her thoughts with the first touch of irritation he had ever directed at her, "Elbows down, fists up, _never_ drop your guard!"

Klara swallowed and resisted the urge to go stiff at the criticism. Instead, she tightened her jaw and settled into the familiar starting pose again, slightly crouched, facing the bag, her fists at angles and her elbows dropped. But Captain Rogers had turned away, rubbing a hand over his face, shoulders heaving as he took in a breath. Klara paused, uncertain. Was this a test? Was she meant to remain as she was, would he turn back and attack her if she lowered her guard at his seeming vulnerability? She had heard of similar tactics, meant to frighten students into compliance. But the captain did not seem like the kind of man to resort to such methods. And she had never seen him in a vulnerable moment before. Ever. She lowered her fists.

"Captain Rogers?"

His shoulders heaved again, and he ran a hand through his short blond locks before he flashed her one of his brilliant smiles, dimmed slightly by an apologetic tone.

"I'm sorry, Klara," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as if he had a cramp, "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I was dropping my guard," she replied, clasping her wrapped hands behind her, "You were doing your duty."

He huffed and shook his head, still smiling.

"No, I wasn't," he said, "I snapped because of me, not because of you, and that's not fair. If I'm gonna be angry, I don't need to take it out on you."

"Are you?" The question slipped from her lips before she could retract it. His glance was confused, and she reluctantly qualified the question. "Angry? You do not seem so."

"I don't?" he asked, sounding skeptical.

"You seem upset," she said, "Not angry. There is a difference."

He stared at her for a moment. Then he sighed and ruffled up his hair again.

"Yeah," he said, "Upset. You're right, that is a better word."

"You didn't care for the film?"

"What? No," he assured her, waving a hand as if to dispel the notion, "No, it wasn't that. The movie was good, cute. I..." He paused, then shrugged. "I wish I could have seen it when it came out."

Klara's brow furrowed as she tried to understand.

"It was...after your time? In the past, I mean?"

"Two years," he said, throwing a couple of half-hearted punches at the bag to set it swinging, "I missed it by two years. You wouldn't think it'd be that big a deal, but..." He shrugged again and stopped the bag in its motion.

"Homesick," Klara said, and again he stared at her as if she'd said something profound. She dropped her eyes. "That is what Darcy Lewis called it. She used to tell me that it didn't necessarily mean you longed for a specific place. It could be...a feeling, a time, a...person."

Her eyes flicked up and away again before she could read his reaction. Had he heard the way her tongue had stumbled? Had he correctly interpreted her hesitation? Had she just lost one of the few allies she might have had?

"Do you miss it?"

He did not speak the question in anger. It was quiet and soft, coaxing. Klara risked a longer glance up, but he wasn't looking at her. He was studying the bag, holding it at arm's length, flexing his fingers against the vinyl.

"Asgard," he clarified, still without looking at her, "Do you miss it?"

"No." The answer came readily to her lips, no hesitation. "I don't. What I miss is...the familiarity. The unquestionable certainty that I was exactly where I ought to be, doing precisely what I was meant to do."

 _Once you learn the truth, you can never unlearn it..._

She shook her head to clear away the ghost of his voice.

"I will never have that again," she said, "And I miss it. But I do not miss Asgard."

"If you could go back," he asked, finally capturing her gaze, "To that feeling, to what was familiar, would you?"

This was a more difficult question, and she did not have a ready answer for it. She had thought she would. She had thought the answer would be easy. But to go back to that feeling, to that unquestioning familiarity...she would have to forget everything that had happened to her. Everything he had taught her.

 _Not talking about it doesn't make it any less true..._

She shut her eyes as the words washed over her, echoes of her naive past, when the world had been so clearly divided into good and evil, black and white.

"No," she breathed, and she could feel a piece of her soul break away with the word, a piece of who she had once been, "I wouldn't. I couldn't."

She opened her eyes. Captain Rogers dropped his.

"Yeah," he said, "Me neither. I think that makes it worse, actually. Knowing that even if I could go back..."

He flexed his hand and then released, unraveling the wrappings on his hands.

"I think we're done for tonight," he said, walking by without looking at her, "Get some sleep, Klara."

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the dim light of the training area. The silver chain around her neck burned and she slowly grasped the pendant beneath her tunic, shutting her eyes and trying not to let the surge of memory consume her where she stood.

* * *

Alice was already in bed when Bruce came in. He watched her for a moment in the dark, the rise and fall of her shoulders as she tried to convince him that she was asleep. She wasn't doing a very good job, but he let her get away with it. He changed quietly in the dark and slipped beneath the covers, laying on his back with his hands folded over his chest, wondering if it was safe to touch her, to hold her, to whisper in her ear how much he had missed her tonight, how much everyone had missed her, how it hadn't been the same without her there. But he knew it wasn't safe. It would only make things worse if she knew how much her presence (or the lack of it) affected everyone in the Tower. If she knew how much she meant to them.

He had tried to explain it to Tony once, but the mechanic didn't get it. He was...well, he was Tony. He wanted to fix it. To tinker, to improve, to make things better. But that wasn't how it worked. Alice wasn't broken. She was scared. Some days more than others, but she lived in a constant state of fear. Not for herself, not for her own life, but for the lives of others, that they might not have to suffer what she suffered every day. She cared _too_ much, and it was both selfless and selfish at the same time. Bruce loved her for it and in spite of it.

He rolled over and pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. She was still awake. He knew she was, but he pretended because that was what she needed him to do.

"I love you, Alice," he whispered, mostly for himself, to feel like he had done something. To feel a little less helpless.

He lay back down, within reach but not quite touching, and shut his eyes. And just as he was on the verge of drifting off, he felt her featherlight touch on his brow and the press of a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow, this chapter was an emotional rollercoaster, and I'm trying to be sorry but I'm really not ;P


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Captain Rogers was gone.

Klara listened quietly to the discussion at breakfast, rumors that a cell of the organization known as HYDRA had taken residence in a facility in Maine. The captain and his friend, Sam Wilson, had been dispatched to investigate and follow any leads that might present themselves. It was unknown when they might return.

Klara knew, of course, that none of this was her doing. All the same, it was...unsettling, knowing Captain Rogers was no longer in the Tower. That she would not awkwardly encounter him in the kitchen or the training facility. She would, naturally, continue practicing what he had taught her in the few weeks since their first encounter, but...

After finishing his first cup of coffee, Mr. Stark indicated that he and Dr. Banner wished to go over the results of Klara's tests, and she followed them both to the lab without question. She still wore the sensors that Alice had placed on her almost a week ago and the data that had been gathered was apparently sufficient to provide a fairly accurate baseline from which they could work.

"You're not all that different from Thor, metabolically speaking," Mr. Stark said, tapping rapidly on his handheld screen as Klara sat patiently on one of the lab stools, "The two of you have a lot of the same genetic markers, it's fascinating."

Klara felt herself stiffen instinctively and tried to relax.

"Is that relevant?" she asked, trying not to sound sharp.

Mr. Stark glanced up, then back to his screen.

"Probably not," he said, "But it's good to have as much information as possible. Never know what might be the master key that unlocks all the doors."

Klara did not comment, though it was clear he was waiting for a response. She did not want to encourage him down this particular path since she was not at all certain that Tony Stark would keep her secret, even if she asked. Instead, she turned to Dr. Banner, who did not even appear to be listening.

"Is Alice feeling any better, Dr. Banner?"

He blinked and looked up from his tablet as if he had forgotten Klara was in the room.

"Oh," he said, looking back down at the information on his screen and adjusting his glasses, "Yeah, she'll be alright. She's just under a lot of pressure lately, finals and everything. She'll be fine."

Klara caught the skeptical glance Tony Stark shot toward his friend, but no one made any comment on this vague attempt at deflection.

"Well," Stark said, after moving some equations and making a few notes on his own tablet, "That's it then! When do we want to start the practical tests?"

He directed this question to Dr. Banner, but the doctor's distraction left a silence that Klara felt anxious to fill.

"Practical tests?"

Mr. Stark grinned at her.

"Repeat performances of what brought us all together on this little adventure."

Klara blinked. Oh. He meant the Hulk. Of course. Was that not what they had been working toward all this time? She could hear the ringing of his roars in her ears even now, and she clasped her hands in her lap as if to stave off the memory.

"Well," she said, "I suppose I should brush up on my Shakespeare."

"This isn't a joke," Dr. Banner snapped.

Klara blinked. She had never once heard him raise his voice. He was always so steady, so level, so calm.

"No," she said, some of her bewilderment bleeding through, "Of course it's not."

He seemed to realize he had misinterpreted and rubbed his eyes, setting down his tablet.

"I gotta go."

He left the lab and got into one of the elevators without another word, leaving Klara and Mr. Stark staring after him.

"So," Stark said, "Not today then."

He made a note on his tablet, but the lightness of his tone was belied by the stiff set of his shoulders. Klara dropped her eyes to her clasped hands.

"I am sorry if something I said has interfered with our progress."

Stark waved this away with a flick of his fingers, turning to the screen before him and making an adjustment of some kind.

"I figured it wouldn't be a good day," he said, "Probably won't have a good day until Alice gets her shit together. Who knows how long _that_ will be."

Klara was surprised by the vehemence in his tone. Tony Stark was, for the most part, a difficult man to read, but it was quite clear that he cared a great deal about Alice, and not just because Dr. Banner was his friend. The angry words seemed uncharacteristic, even for him.

"Is this...?" Klara hesitated, searching for the correct phrasing, "Do you think she's alright?"

Mr. Stark sighed and shut off his screen, swiping all his work away and running a hand through his hair in a gesture that reminded Klara of Captain Rogers.

"I don't know," he said, sounding as if the admission both pained and frustrated him, "Alice is... She has a unique way of viewing the world and the people in it. Sometimes it doesn't make any goddamn sense. She is, without a doubt, the most hard-headed person I have ever had the misfortune to meet, and I've met some _seriously_ misguided assholes."

He gave Klara a pointed look and she dropped her eyes again, feeling his gaze like a burning brand on her.

"She'll be alright," he said, picking up his tablet and making another note, "Or she won't. Either way, there's nothing we can do about it. And that's entirely her own damn fault."

He stalked out of the lab, leaving Klara sitting alone on her stool and wondering what she was supposed to do now.

* * *

Alice had gotten out of bed today. That was progress. She'd even considered leaving the room. Really. She had showered and dressed. She had her hand on the doorknob. It wasn't that big a deal. She was just going to find something to eat in the lounge. It was like two in the afternoon, no one would even be there, probably. Bruce had come through a few minutes ago, long enough to kiss her and ask how the studying was going. She had lied and told him it was fine. She hadn't read a single word. He didn't quiz her.

Her hand dropped back to her side. She didn't need to see anyone. Not until she was _sure_ she could look them in the eye and not care. That was the goal, wasn't it? After all, she was an island. For a lot of years, she had been an island of one. She was an island of two now, since Bruce, but Bruce had a boat. He had been alone before. He could be alone again. She never signed up to be part of a team. But now she was studying nursing and learning to fly a quinjet. Like she was planning to stick around. Like Death wasn't waiting for her around every corner.

"What am I doing?" she muttered to the empty room. Shockingly, the room answered.

"Miss Ripley, Miss Potts has asked me to inform you that she is on her way up," JARVIS said in his droll voice, "She has also asked me to inform you that this is not a point up for debate."

Alice groaned and dropped her head against the closed door with a thunk. She had been dreading this. She knew Pepper wasn't going to let her brood forever. Pepper didn't do brooding. It was a waste of time.

Not a minute later, someone on the other side of the door was knocking, sending vibrations through Alice's forehead.

"Alice? I know you're in there. Come on, Happy's waiting with the car."

Alice sighed again and cracked open the door.

"I'm not decent," she lied.

"Then you're going to be very embarrassed," Pepper said, her arms crossed over her smart blazer, one heel-clad toe-tapping absently, "But it is New York and we're not going anywhere fancy, so I'm sure we'll be fine."

"Where are we going?" Alice grumbled, opening the door just wide enough to slip into the hall, tugging at her hoodie and running her fingers through her hair. It was almost past her shoulders now, and she missed being able to just pat it into place. Maybe she _should_ get it cut.

"Out," Pepper answered, turning on her heel and clacking down the corridor, "Food. Coffee. Something. But out. You've been locked in there for nearly two days and that's at least one day too many."

Alice muttered under her breath but she followed the tall redhead into the elevator. Pepper pressed the button for the garage with one manicured finger, then crossed her arms again. They were silent all the way down. Maybe that was good, a good first step. The first step back toward the island.

They got out of the elevator, and Alice saw Happy Hogan standing in what looked like the exact same suit, next to a nondescript black sedan.

"Miss Potts," he said, nodding as they approached, "Miss Ripley."

"Happy," Pepper said, stepping into the open door of the sedan, "We're going for coffee, I think. Unless you're hungry?" she said, turning to Alice, "Have you even been eating, cooped up in that room?"

Alice shrugged. "Bruce brings me food."

"Never mind," Pepper said, leaning forward as Happy slid into the driver's seat, "Sandwiches first."

Alice slumped in her seat as they angled out of the garage and slid smoothly into traffic. There was another long moment of silence as New York City slipped past the windows.

"You can stop the act," Pepper said, tapping erratically on the phone in her hand, "You're not getting out of this by going full-on strong, silent type on me."

"I don't have an act," Alice mumbled, hunching further into the seat.

Pepper rolled her eyes, finished whatever she was doing on the phone, and turned to give Alice a pointed look.

"Everyone has an act," Pepper said, " _Everyone_. Tony's act is that he's a spoiled brat with no sense of decency. Bruce's act is that nothing bothers him and he's perfectly content wherever he lands. My act is that I'm actually in charge of my own life."

Alice frowned at her.

"So what's my act?"

"That you don't actually care about anyone but yourself."

Alice flinched. She didn't mean to, but she did. Pepper didn't soften even a little bit.

"But that's _all_ it is," she said, "An act. The truth is always more complicated, and everyone knows it. But we put on these faces and everyone gets away with it because that's easier than truth. I don't know your truth, Alice, and I don't need to. But I'm done pretending that this facade you've put on is any more than that. So you can go ahead and drop it."

She settled back in her seat and pulled out her phone again, tapping rapidly into it. Alice remained slumped on her side of the car and considered. Would Pepper understand her? Probably not. But maybe she was right. Maybe she didn't have to.

"I just don't want to hurt anybody," she said and was surprised that it was almost an exact echo of what she had said to Bruce in the elevator.

"Well you're not hurting me," Pepper retorted, not even looking up from the phone, "So score one for you."

Alice actually felt herself smile. She realized it had been all of two days since she'd genuinely smiled.

"Better," Pepper said, looking up from her phone and smiling back. She put the phone away and turned to face her. "So, tell me all about your relationship problems so I can feel better about myself."

Alice laughed then, and it felt good. And while she didn't have many relationship problems to speak of, they did talk over lunch and then over coffee, and Pepper even managed to convince Alice to buy a new pair of shoes that she would probably never wear. When they got off the elevator at the penthouse a few hours later, Alice was laughing at something Pepper had said and nearly ran into Tony. He stopped and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Oh thank _god_ , you're back," he said, giving Alice a once over as if searching for injuries.

"Um," Alice said, her brow furrowed as she allowed this unusual scrutiny, "We weren't gone that long, Tony."

"What?" He blinked, and then seemed to realize what he'd said and grinned. "Oh! Yeah, I mean... You know what, never mind."

He pecked a kiss to her forehead and then slipped past her, grabbing Pepper around the waist and pulling her back into the open elevator, despite her squeal of feigned protest.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?" he asked, as the doors slid closed over them.

Alice rolled her eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the lounge seats and heading for the kitchen. She had a craving for chai. She was banging around the cupboards looking for a new bag of sugar when she sensed, more than heard, someone come up behind her. She turned just in time to get pushed back against the counter, hands on her hips, lips on hers. Her fingers found curly hair and she smiled into the kiss.

"Hey," she breathed out when Bruce finally came up for air.

"Hey," he whispered back, grinning like an idiot, eyes shining behind his glasses. She felt a blush starting at her cheeks and coloring all the way to the tip of her nose. She loved his eyes. She loved his lips. She loved his hair. She loved him.

"I'm making chai," she said when he made no move to release her, "If you want some."

He shut his eyes and pressed his brow to hers, breathing in deep. He was still grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah," he said finally, "I'd like that."

He let her go and found the sugar (it was on a top shelf that she couldn't have reached anyway) while she got the water started, dumping in the tea as it started to steam. They didn't say anything else. There was nothing else to say. She didn't know how long it would last, but for now, they were good. She was good.

* * *

Klara was unexpectedly relieved when Mr. Stark informed her that the practical tests of her abilities would begin on Monday. Captain Rogers had been gone for only a few days, and she could already feel the beginnings of restlessness building in her chest and limbs. Though she had been trying to maintain her training in his absence, she found that it was not the same without his encouragement pushing her to exceed her limits, and she often caught her mind wandering dangerously. She was eager for something, _anything,_ to occupy her thoughts, and the prospect of coming face to face with Dr. Banner's alternate identity proved to be a sufficient distraction.

Lord Thor accompanied her to the underground " _Dungeon_ " and Klara was pleased to see Alice Ripley waiting for them.

"Alice," she said, stepping from the elevator to greet the Midgardian girl with a smile, "I am glad to see you recovered from your recent illness."

Alice smirked.

"Yeah me too," she said, "I see you dressed for the occasion this time."

Klara dropped her eyes and resisted the urge to toe at the stone floor with her athletic shoe. She was wearing what she usually wore for her training sessions, a close-fitting tunic of breathable fabric and matching leggings, a practical outfit, no frills or frippery. The long tail of her hair dropped over her shoulder and she could almost hear Captain Rogers' voice in the shadows.

 _You should wear your hair up..._

"Here's your panic button."

Miss Romanov appeared from seemingly nowhere, making Klara jump. The red-headed woman smirked as she held out the blue button, and after only a moment's hesitation, Klara held out her arm, allowing it to be strapped to her wrist. In many respects, Miss Romanov was even more difficult to read than Mr. Stark and far more intimidating. Once the button was secure, Klara clasped her hands tightly behind her and inexplicably wished her hands were wrapped in boxing tape. Miss Romanov was still smirking at her.

"You remember the drill, right?" Mr. Stark said, his eyes fixed to his computer readouts, "Your sensors are still on? You're all good?"

Klara nodded, and made an affirmative noise, her throat too dry to risk speech. She glanced over Stark's shoulder. Dr. Banner stood very still within the bright room, in the same strange outfit he had worn before, a composite material designed for his unique physiology. His eyes were shut, brow furrowed, shoulders moving with steady, even breaths. Mr. Stark had her test the panic button a few times and re-calibrated her sensors 'for luck'. Then he turned to the bank of buttons in front of the window and pressed one down.

"Alright, big guy, we're all set out here. Do your worst."

Klara approached the window to get a better view. She had missed the transformation before, distracted by arguments and harsh words. Now she watched as Dr. Banner dropped his head to his chest, took one last, deep breath...and then exploded with the force of a small earthquake. He spun on the balls of his feet, far more agile than any creature of that size ought to be, and threw himself against each wall in turn, roaring frustration. He seemed to sense that the wall in front of them was where the threat truly lay and began to concentrate his efforts, slamming over and over against the shimmering field of blue protecting the disguised glass. Mr. Stark touched a few buttons and moved a sliding knob up just a touch, his face alight with concentration and delighted fascination. He was enjoying it in a strange way, the danger of it.

"Alright, I think you're up, Hulk-whisperer," he said with a hint of jest to his tone, though Klara did not understand the reference.

The Hulk threw himself one last time against the window and fell back, snorting and shaking his head as if to clear it. Klara approached the large steel door off to the side and stood with her hands clasped behind her, her back to all the others watching. She shut her eyes and pictured the door to a very different dungeon. She took a breath and could smell the chill in the air, letting it fill her lungs and seep into her blood.

"Ready?"

Her spine straightened and her eyes opened. She nodded. The door hissed and without hesitation, Klara stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind her.

The Hulk roared and took a running charge at her. Klara leveled her gaze at him and stood her ground. He stopped at two paces, his eyes fixed on hers, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as if trying to decide.

"Hello again," she said, still surprised that her voice did not tremble, "Is that any way to greet a friend?"

He snorted and turned away from her, pacing back to the far wall and banging his fist against it. The blue field rippled out in waves beneath his fist. Klara took a step forward.

"Well, that's not doing you any kind of good, is it?"

He turned and roared in her direction, but it wasn't a challenge. It felt more like...a pout. Like a child who wanted his way and didn't know how to get it, and when someone pointed this out all he could do was shout. The image brought a smile to Klara's lips, but she quickly put it away, pressing her nails into her palms.

 _"_ How can I then return in happy plight,

That am debarred the benefit of rest?

When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,

But day by night and night by day oppressed. _"_

Klara felt her grip on her clasped hands relax as she spoke the words. She had found the sonnets of the old poet on the information network Midgardians called the 'internet', and she had been studying them. The flowing rhythm of the words was soothing, even as the words themselves seemed to speak to her heart, to her restless nights and anxious days, to the shadow that had haunted her every waking moment since-

Hulk snorted again and dropped his hand, crouching as she spoke, his eyes narrowed as if he suspected a trick. Klara shook away her reverie and took up the cadence of the rhymes once more.

"And each, though enemies to either's reign,

Do in consent shake hands to torture me,

The one by toil, the other to complain

How far I toil, still farther off from thee."

 _Farther off from thee..._ Klara felt the weight of the pendant she wore but ignored it, taking a step forward, slowly, but not hesitantly. Hulk shifted but did not draw away. He was watching her closely with his large, dark eyes. Klara's heart thumped hard in her chest.

"I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright,

And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heavens."

She crouched before him. He let out a breath in a harsh huff, not quite a snort, but he still did not pull away. His eyes flitted over her, still cautious, still waiting.

"So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,

When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even."

She held out her hand. He expelled another huff and shifted again. She remained where she was. It was his choice. She would not push him to it. He had so few choices that were his own.

"But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer-"

The words caught in her throat and she swallowed. Hulk glanced up into her face, fixed his eyes on her, and slowly, so slowly, lifted up his hand, palm up to her. An invitation. She smiled and forced the final words past her lips as she reached for him.

"And night...doth nightly make grief's length seem stronger."

Her fingers brushed the skin of his palm and it rippled. His face contorted and he groaned deep in his chest, pitching forward to collapse to his knees. Klara caught his arm by instinct and felt magic flee from her touch, like a wind through dry grass. Hulk made a choked sound, like a roar that could not break free, and shriveled inward, hitting the floor on his opposite shoulder, still twice the size it should be. Klara tucked his arm beside him and then stepped back, allowing Dr. Banner time to regain himself again. He was heaving as if still struggling for breath and for a moment Klara feared that something had gone wrong. But finally, he slumped over onto his back and opened his eyes, blinking into the bright light.

"Still can't get over the Shakespeare," he gasped, still catching his breath, "Who would have thought?"

Klara smiled, her fears alleviated by his words. "Beauty knows no bounds, it would seem."

"Well," Mr. Stark said, appearing at Dr. Banner's side and kneeling to check his vitals, "I'd call that a successful test. I can't wait to get this data downloaded into the lab computers, it's gonna be phenomenal."

"I can't wait to get a shower and sleep for about a week," Dr. Banner said, sounding every bit as exhausted as his words suggested.

"Just in time for Test Number Three!" Mr. Stark said cheerily and the doctor groaned, though he did not really sound put out about it. He was still smiling a little at the corners of his mouth, satisfied by a job well done. Klara felt another knot of anxiety loosen in her shoulders and she let out a breath.

"That was pretty amazing."

She straightened again as Alice approached, her arms crossed over her chest but smiling.

"I mean, you just stood there," she said, sounding impressed, "You didn't even flinch. It was wild."

"To show fear is to invite challenge," Klara recited. She remembered this from her lessons with Elli. She had been speaking of nobles, of course, and servants like Fulla, who cared only for their own gain and had no qualms about clawing upon the backs of others to reach their ends. But the advice had served Klara well on several occasions. Her chest clenched to think of Elli.

 _You were born to be loved..._

She blinked and realized that Natasha Romanov had also entered the room and was staring at her pointedly, as if in challenge. She did not dare avert her gaze, clasping her hands behind her tightly once again. The other woman held her there for a moment, then turned and strode away, without any indication of what she had been thinking. Klara felt the knot of anxiety in her shoulders tighten again.

"Klara?"

Lord Thor had joined them as well, and she gave him a tight smile before his concerned eyes could question any further.

"I am very tired," she said, dropping one foot behind her and dipping into a small curtsy, "I wonder if I might retire for the afternoon."

"Of course," Lord Thor said, the question in his eyes vanishing into kindness and understanding, "Take whatever time you need."

"Thank you, my lord."

Klara left the room and blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the Dungeon once more. Miss Romanov was gone. Klara stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for Level 27, flexing her fingers into fists and trying to suppress the tingle of unease she could feel building in her limbs. Perhaps a stop by the gymnasium would help her work through the tension. She changed her floor selection and shifted on her feet.

 _How far I toil...still farther off from thee..._

* * *

 **A/N:** The sonnet I used here is #28, in case anyone was wondering. I'm going to go back through and add in all my references to the previous chapters because I realized I forgot to put them in :) Also, can we talk about the irony of posting a chapter on 4th of July in which Captain America is noticeably absent? ;P LOL


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The weighted bag swung wildly and Klara tried to move with it, keeping her fists clenched, her legs bent, her elbows tucked. She was early to the gym today, but she hadn't been able to sit for even one moment longer. She was still waiting to hear back on the results of their testing from the previous day, and if she had to read one more line of the book Darcy Lewis had transmitted to her, she was going to scream. It was meant to be a romantic comedy, but the jokes fell flat, and the characters only grated on her nerves with their mundanities. Honestly, she could not understand how the girl could read such drivel and actually enjoy it. At least it wasn't another of those terrible novels like she had sent before, what she liked to call ' _trashy romance_ '. The word _'trash'_ was a descriptor Klara could vouch for.

She swung at the bag as it made a circuit back within striking distance, then ducked to the side and hit it again, several rapid shots with her fists that stung even through the thick padding around her knuckles. A trickle of perspiration tracked down her temple, and she brushed at a damp curl that had come loose of her tie. Her legs were starting to ache from the crouch, and she straightened for a moment, stopping the swing of the bag with one hand.

"Well, you're no Jack Murdock, that's for sure."

Klara's spine stiffened as Natasha Romanov materialized out of the shadows, strutting forward with a cocky twist to her lips. She reminded Klara of Fulla in that moment, but she shoved that thought away instantly. Miss Romanov was nothing like Fulla. Miss Romanov was far more dangerous.

"Captain Rogers has been very patient with me," Klara answered, trying to keep her voice neutral, "He is a good teacher."

"Steve is a softie with a heart of gold, and he has absolutely no sense of the things you're capable of."

Klara blinked and the other woman's smirk widened into something almost wicked. She approached the bag with deliberate care, caressing it with her fingertips.

"It's one thing to hit a bag," Miss Romanov said, tracing patterns in the vinyl as she circled, "It's something else to hit a person."

"Yes, I imagine so," Klara said, hands clasped behind her as tightly as she could. She was in her armor. She was strong.

"No use imagining it," Miss Romanov said, "You have to _feel_ it to understand."

She swung almost lazily, and Klara ducked but lost her balance, stumbling to one knee on the rubber floor. Miss Romanov dropped to a crouch beside her.

"Your instincts are good, but your reflexes are lousy," she said, "Only gets better with practice. And you won't get that from Steve. Not quickly anyway."

"Why not?" Klara snapped, meeting the woman's gaze and bracing herself on the mat, ready to spring back up should the need arise.

Miss Romanov smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression. It was the expression of a cat, pleased to see that its prey had shown enough spirit to be chased.

"Because he looks at you and sees a person," she said, "Where I see a target."

She kicked out and swept a leg beneath Klara, sending her slamming backward to the floor. Klara gasped but did not cry out, gritting her teeth and breathing through her nose. Then she rolled back onto her feet, spinning to miss a punch by bare inches. Again, it had been a lazy effort, but the other woman looked pleased by the effort.

"Alright then," Miss Romanov said, still with that feral glint in her eye, "Let's get started."

* * *

"Are we ever gonna fly again?"

Alice sipped at her coffee, watching as Tony moved a few variables around on one of the lab screens, her test book forgotten on the table. Bruce was still sleeping off yesterday's ordeal. It was completely possible he might sleep until dinner.

"Getting itchy feet?" Tony asked, turning a genial smirk her way, "Last week you didn't even wanna leave your room."

Alice stuck her tongue out at him, but he wasn't far off the mark. She had come down to the lab under the pretense of studying, but she couldn't even convince _herself_ of that lie. Turning your back on Tony Stark in a lab, even for a few seconds, was a good way to become the unwilling subject of an unsanctioned science experiment. No, the truth was Alice _was_ feeling antsy. She needed the distraction.

"Don't you have a final or something?" Tony asked, his eyes flitting over the numbers on his screen, sorting through the data from yesterday's 'practical test'.

"Three finals," Alice said, feeling a knot in her stomach that she tried to ignore, "But if I don't know it now, I doubt I'm gonna learn it in the few hours I have left."

"You probably know more than you think you do," he agreed, never taking his eyes from the numbers scrolling across his screen, "Relax, you've got this."

Alice rolled her eyes. "If you don't stop being nice to me, I'm gonna start to think you've been replaced by a pod person."

"Ooh, Invasion of the Body Snatchers! That one's definitely going in the box."

Alice snorted and took another sip of her coffee, glancing down at her book. She should probably at least flip through the practice questions-

"Holy shit."

She looked up. Tony was staring at his screen, hands suspended in the air like he'd been frozen. All Alice could see were three wavy lines playing on the screen over and over.

"What is it?" she asked, getting up and coming around the table to see what had shocked the great Tony Stark to silence.

The data wasn't completely unfamiliar. She recognized a human baseline, presumably Bruce, mixed in with other numbers that made virtually no sense to her. As an Asgardian, Klara's numbers were off the chart for what humans might consider normal. She didn't look it, but she was almost as strong as Steve Rogers. Maybe that was why the boxing lessons seemed to be working out so well.

Tony dropped one hand to his hip and the other into his hair, pulling his fingers through absently.

"I think I've figured out Klara's deal."

Alice raised an eyebrow at him.

"Her deal?"

"Wait, let me just-" His fingers flew over the screen, muttering to himself as he scrolled through reams of files. "Ah, here we go!"

He tapped a file and another squiggly line appeared, playing in a loop with the other three. They were all running at different rates, different heights, different speeds.

"Holy shit," Tony said again, his hand back in his hair.

"Care to explain to the lowly med student?"

He pointed at each individual line, starting from the top and working down to the newest addition, "Bruce, Hulk, Klara, Thor."

Alice furrowed her brow. "But what _are_ they, Tony?"

"Electricity," he said, "Electromagnetic radiation waves, everybody has 'em, low-level electrical impulses. It keeps our bodies running, sends signals to every part of us. Most of us never feel it. I mean-" He poked Alice in the arm and Alice flinched, frowning at him. "-see? No electromagnetic effect. I can't affect you, you can't affect me, not without a _lot_ of outside power."

"Okay," Alice said, rubbing her arm despite herself, "So what am I looking at here?"

"Well, see this?" Tony switched the Klara and Thor waves so that Thor was next to the Hulk. "Big Green has very similar impulses to a typical Asgardian. Bruce, on the other hand, is more closely related to what we would consider the human spectrum. In order for that transformation to happen, a huge amount of energy has to be expended. That's why Bruce is sleeping in today."

"Yeah, okay, that makes sense..."

"But see Klara?" He switched Thor and Klara back. "Klara isn't on the same spectrum as any of them. Hers is completely different!"

"So?" Alice asked, "We already knew she was different from other Asgardians. And she's clearly not human-"

"Yeah well, watch what happened when her electrical impulses came into contact with the Hulk."

Tony pressed a few buttons and the two waves were highlighted and brought to the foreground. Alice watched dutifully. The lines waved and waved and waved...and then stuttered. Alice took a sharp breath. The lines flickered, pulsed...and then Hulk's lines began to shrink. To come undone. Until finally Hulk's line became Bruce's line. Klara's line pulsed strongly and then went back to normal.

"...holy shit."

"Right?!" Tony exclaimed, "She disrupts the electrical impulses long enough for Bruce to reassert dominance over the pseudo-Asgardian field! She is _literally_ an electromagnetic disruptor!"

"But," Alice said, "So, why is Thor okay? If his is like the Hulk's-"

"They're not _quite_ the same, though," Tony said, bringing Thor's lines into the foreground with Klara's, "See, when she touches him..."

The two lines pulsed in strong time together, neither gaining the upper hand.

"His electrical field is stronger," Tony explained, "She can't disrupt it because it's ingrained in him. It's probably why Cap can handle her too. The serum that changed him is similar to the one Bruce tried to replicate, but in Cap's case, the change took a more permanent hold. It can't be reverted because it literally changed his DNA. Bruce's thing is just temporary, the dominant impulse is still human. In theory, she should be able to give Bruce a big ol' bear hug in his scientist suit with no adverse effects."

"Could this explain the thing with magic, then?" Alice asked, her mind reeling, "Do you think what we call magic...couldn't that just be power based on a different electromagnetic spectrum, one that humans haven't harnessed yet? And Klara's electromagnetic field just...negates it?"

Tony raised his eyebrows at her, then turned back to his screen with wide eyes. "Holy shit."

"Magic and science," Alice whispered, "Thor's always saying..."

Holy shit, indeed.

* * *

Routine. That was what Klara had been craving: routine, familiarity, purpose, and the knowledge that her existence might have meaning beyond the mundane. The explanation of her curse, even in strange, scientific terms, had given her that knowledge and the hope of familiarity. Coupled with a successful second practical test and the promise of more to come, Klara finally felt as if she had a place in the Tower, even if that place was merely as a test subject and punching bag.

She wasn't quite certain if Natasha Romanov resented her, or if she was simply merciless with all her students. Being her _only_ student made it impossible to tell. She was brutal, exacting, diligent, and had no patience for weakness of any kind. Klara took pride in giving her no cause to criticize her resolve, but she seemed to have no trouble finding plenty of other faults to disparage her with.

"You're dead," Miss Romanov said, as she slammed Klara onto the practice mat with a fist to her throat, before popping back up into starting position, "Again."

Klara got to her feet, ignoring the pain in her hip and the ache in her back. Three seconds later, she was back on the floor, on her knees this time, with Miss Romanov circling her neck with her arms.

"You're dead," she said, shoving off and circling around, "Again."

Klara did not pause for breath. That was only asking for a knee to the face. She pushed up hard, taking some of her frustration out on the mat, and bounced to her toes, hands up, elbows tucked. This time she managed to get a single blow in on the other woman's side, but it didn't even seem to phase her. She dropped and before Klara could think to hop back, her feet were swept out from under her and Miss Romanov was straddling her, hands at her throat.

"You're dead," she said, back-flipping to start once more, "Again."

"How many times you gonna kill her, Nat?"

The unexpected voice sent a jolt through Klara's aching body and she turned toward it, earning a sharp punch to the solar plexus that sent her stumbling back into one of the columns in the training room, coughing and gasping for air.

"As many times as it takes," Miss Romanov said, "You're dead, by the way."

When the other woman did not immediately insist that they begin again, Klara was inordinately grateful. She took the opportunity to catch her breath, letting her head rest against the stone and shutting her eyes against the overhead lights. A shadow passed over her and her eyes opened onto the apologetic face of Captain Rogers. Klara could feel embarrassment color her face and she tried desperately to stop gasping like a fish.

"Sorry," he said, "That was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Miss Romanov insisted, "It was her fault. Distractions are not excuses."

"I'm afraid she's right, Captain," Klara said, forcing herself upright and trying not to wince as pain shot up her bruised shoulder, "It was my fault. I shouldn't have allowed such a little thing to lower my guard."

He raised an eyebrow and turned to Miss Romanov, "I leave for two weeks and you're already inside her head? That's scary, Nat."

"Girl's got brains," Natasha said, unwrapping her hands, an indication that they were done for today, "Her reflexes are still lousy, but we're working on that. Eventually, she might even not suck."

Klara dropped her eyes and felt a tiny smile flit across her face. It was the closest thing to a compliment she'd heard from Miss Romanov since they'd started.

"I'm going to take a shower," Miss Romanov said, though she looked as if she'd not even broken a sweat, "I feel like I have rookie all over me."

"Yeah, I hear that stuff's contagious," Captain Rogers quipped, to which he received a sound punch to the arm as Miss Romanov strode by.

Klara did not breathe easy again until she was actually out of the room. She had learned, in the days they had been training together, to never truly believe that the day was done until you saw Natasha Romanov leave the room with your own two eyes. She let out a long breath (which pained her ribs a bit, where she had been kicked at least twice) and began to gingerly free her own hands from their wraps.

"So, how long has Nat been beating you up?"

Klara glanced up. Captain Rogers was still there, dressed in his denim and short sleeves, leaning against one of the pillars with his arms crossed and his eyes flitting over her. She dropped her gaze. What must he think of her, to be so obviously inept?

"Perhaps ten days?"

"Every day?"

"Not on Mondays," she corrected, "I spend Mondays in the Dungeon, with Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark."

"Jesus," he muttered, and she glanced up to see him running a hand through his blond hair, "I leave for two weeks, and you go suicidal. Does Thor know about this?"

Klara flinched. "Lord Thor knows where I spend my time, yes."

That was technically true. Lord Thor knew that she spent many hours in the gymnasium. He simply did not ask _how_ she spent that time. And Klara was very good at ignoring aches...and hiding bruises.

 _"No one touches one of mine..."_

Captain Rogers sighed, and Klara shoved the memory away. He was shaking his head, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Look, I know it's none of my business," he said, "But Nat can get pretty...well, she's serious about what she does. If it gets to be too much, if she...goes too far-" He looked up and straight into her soul with those blue eyes. "-just let someone know, alright? Thor, or Alice, or...look, don't just take it and assume that if you can't handle it, you shouldn't be here. We can talk her down, just...say something, okay?"

Klara felt her shoulders stiffen. He'd said _we_. Though he hadn't named himself, he had all the same lumped himself in with that word. _We_... Her hands were clasped behind her, holding the roll of tape in a tight grip. She was strong. She was _strong_. She ignored her aches and pains and dipped him a respectful curtsy.

"Of course, Captain."

He did not look as pleased by this as she thought he should, but he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Right," he said, shoving upright from the pillar and running a hand through his hair again, "Right. I guess I'll see you around then."

He turned to go.

"Captain?" He turned back. "I'm pleased you're home safe."

He looked taken aback for a moment, but then he smiled, one of those brilliant smiles that lit his whole face from within. She had missed those smiles.

"Yeah," he said, "Me too."

He was gone before Klara felt her world had properly balanced again. She pressed one hand against the nearest stone pillar, and wrapped the other around the silver pendant beneath her tunic, felt it burn against her skin.

 _His eyes danced with delighted mischief, glittering through the golden light. "It suits you...I knew it would..."_

She shut her eyes and tried not to let her guilt consume her.

* * *

 **A/N:** Daredevil reference FTW! ;D


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"It's a bad day."

Alice looked up from her tablet. She and Bruce were sitting at the table just off the kitchen area, having what passed for breakfast on a Monday morning these days. Alice had her coffee, Bruce had his toast, but he hadn't touched it. He hadn't even put on butter or jam. He was just staring down into his glass of orange juice, a furrow on his brow. Alice put down the tablet and sat back, cradling her coffee mug in her hands to warm them. It was cold next to the bank of windows, the sky a solid steel gray. It looked like snow, maybe.

"Bad how?" she asked, lifting the mug to her lips.

The furrow in Bruce's brow deepened.

"Just...bad."

Alice considered that for a moment. She knew what a bad day was. A bad day meant a long stay in one of the special rec rooms or an isolated stint in the Dungeon. A bad day was nothing to quibble over. There was no telling what a bad day might turn into.

"Should we call it off?" she asked.

Bruce shook his head.

"No, Tony can still use the data," he said, "But...I don't want Klara in the room. Not today."

Alice nodded. "Okay."

* * *

But trying to explain a bad day to Klara was proving to be an exercise in futility.

"Look, Klara, it's noble and all, what you're trying to do," Tony said impatiently, running a hand through his hair as he fiddled with a knob on his controls, "But if Bruce says it's a bad day, I can assure you he isn't playing around."

"I understand, Mr. Stark," Klara said, her spine set stubbornly straight, "However, my point still stands. If I am truly meant to be of any use to you, or to _them_ , then I must see all sides. Is this not what we have been striving toward, the reason for our work? Is it not for situations of this _exact_ nature? How will we ever know the results unless we test them in controlled conditions?"

"But that's what I'm saying, nothing about these conditions are controlled," Tony said, "It's just wild, untamed, power. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. And, trust me, you are _not_ that object. He will tear you apart without a second thought, and Bruce will be the one living with the consequences."

"That will not happen," Klara insisted.

"That is correct," Thor said, finally speaking up, "Because you will not be in that position. It is too dangerous, Klara."

"I agree," Steve said, his arms crossed, "We have no idea how he's going to react. We can't put you in there without some kind of reasonable assurance-"

"What do you guys think I've been drilling her on for the past two weeks?" Nat asked, exasperated, "We haven't been in the gym playing _durak_."

"No, you've been showing her the innumerable ways she can get herself killed," Steve snapped.

Thor stiffened and his eyes narrowed. "What is this?"

"It's nothing," Klara said, a little too quickly, "Miss Romanov has been supplementing my training time."

"What's a little hand-to-hand combat between frenemies?" Nat said with a shrug, "The point is, she's not stupid. Stop treating her like she is. If it gets bad, she has the panic button and we can all come running to the rescue."

Alice caught a flicker of motion through the window where Bruce had already ensconced himself. The furrow in his brow was more prominent than usual. His fists had clenched at his sides.

"Guys...?"

"That button isn't foolproof," Tony pointed out, "If she presses it, it'll still take a few seconds to get the door open. We might not have that kind of time."

"I am willing to take the risk," Klara insisted, "It is my duty, to Dr. Banner as well as to the Hulk. We _must_ know the limits of my influence if I am ever to be of any service."

Bruce shuddered. Alice took a step toward the glass. Sweat had beaded at his temples.

"Uh, _guys_..."

"Klara, no offense, but your influence is no good to us if you're dead," Steve said.

"I agree," Thor said, "There will be other times, once we understand things better, we can try to-"

Bruce gasped. His eyes shot open. Alice could almost _feel_ his terror, like a laser through the glass.

 _"Guys!_ "

But it was too late. The others turned just in time to see Bruce shatter. He was right. It was a _bad_ day. The Hulk was a blur of green fury, a cacophony of sound. The walls trembled with the force of him and everyone simultaneously took a step back. The concrete beneath their feet rumbled as he roared his frustration and rage.

And in the space of one giant breath, there was the hiss of a pneumatic seal.

"Klara!" Steve shouted and lunged for the door, but the girl had already slipped inside and hauled it shut behind her. The seal hissed again, airtight.

"Son of a bitch!" Tony made a dive for the control panel and scrambled furiously at the buttons. "Shit, this is _exactly_ what I was talking about! It's at least ten seconds before the pressure normalizes enough to release."

"Out of the way!" Thor bellowed, lifting his hand as the air crackled around him.

"No!" Tony shouted, still tapping at the controls, "If you do that the whole building could come down and it still might not get the door open. Let me..."

He trailed off fingers flying. Beyond the glass, the Hulk bellowed and slammed into the glass, again and again, a flurry of movement with no defined shape. Alice couldn't see Klara. She sidled in next to Tony and pressed the comm button. The speakers resonated with the force of the creature's lungs, nearly screeching with feedback.

"Hulk!"

Klara's voice seemed tinny and small in the silence, but he turned toward it. She stood on the far side of the room, her fists clenched at her sides, her face set into a determined expression.

"Stop this, my friend," she said, "This mad rage of futility."

He snorted. And then he charged, so quick that he was little more than a smear of green on the air. Alice's breath caught in her throat. She was dead. Klara was dead, and it was Bruce who would have to live with it, with the pain, and the grief, and the inevitable guilt.

But...she wasn't dead. Not yet. Instead, she moved, ducking beneath the oncoming behemoth and slipping to the side as he ran past, slamming into the wall where she had been standing mere seconds before. She reached for him, wrapping both hands around one huge arm.

"I'm sorry," she hissed through gritted teeth.

He roared, almost as if in pain, and struck out. They could hear clearly through the speakers as Klara's body collided with the opposite wall, smacking into the barrier with a crack of blue light.

" _Tony!_ " Steve shouted, and the door hissed open.

The thing that was not quite Bruce, but no longer entirely Hulk, moaned and writhed on the floor. Alice ran to him, Tony hot on her heels and muttering curses under his breath.

"Bruce?" Her voice was shaking as she dropped next to his withering, huddled form. "Talk to me, honey, breathe..."

He shuddered, as if shaking away the last remnants of the thing he had been, and then sucked in a gasping breath and started coughing. Tony gently shouldered his way next to her and started scanning, prodding carefully while Alice rubbed Bruce's back and made what few soothing sounds she could. Her throat felt like it had swollen shut and she pressed her forehead to his shoulder, her eyes shut tight, damming up relieved tears.

"Did I-?" he gasped, "Is she-?"

"I'm alright," Klara said, though her voice sounded pained, "Truly, I'm not hurt."

Something bubbled up in Alice then, something red, and hot, and... _angry_. She was on her feet and had Klara shoved up against the wall before she even realized what was happening.

"Do you have any idea?" she screamed, "Do you have _any_ clue? Goddamnit, none of this is about _you!_ If he had killed you, if that had happened, it wouldn't _matter_ to you, because you would be _dead!_ And there would be nothing I could do, _nothing,_ to make that go away! He would carry your dead body for the rest of his goddamn life, and there would be _nothing I could do!_ "

She was crying. Tears were streaming down her face and she let go of Klara, let her slump to the floor, and turned away. She was shaking. She could barely see Steve and Thor and Tony staring at her, could barely see the huddled form of Bruce still trembling on the floor. She started walking, out the door, out of the Dungeon, taking the stairs because she didn't want to wait for the elevator. She only made it to the third floor before she collapsed in the empty stairwell, gasping for breath, pressing her face into the cool cement steps and sobbing.

* * *

That night, despite her aches and bruises, despite her head still spinning a little when she got up too quickly, Klara found herself in the gymnasium in the late hours, in the semi-dark of the backup lighting, hands wrapped, taking shots at the swinging vinyl bag.

Jab. Jab. Cross.

She had to be faster. She had to be better. She had to be stronger. Otherwise...

 _None of this is about you!_

Jab. Cross. Jab. Undercut.

 _You would be dead!_

...UnderJabJabUnderJabCross...

 _He would carry your dead body for the rest of his goddamn life...!_

...JabCrossJabJabJabJab...

 _What good are you, to yourself or anyone, if you are dead?_

His voice rang out so clearly in the empty quiet that Klara actually spun on her heel, looking for...but she was alone. Of course, she was. She was always alone now.

She set her jaw and turned back to the swinging bag, raining blows upon it in loud staccato. She was alone because in a matter of hours she had managed to successfully alienate the only two residents of this Tower who had made any attempt at all to reconcile with her past in even the most rudimentary sense. She had never seen Captain Rogers so angry. She had never seen Alice...

 _...the moon knew not what might was his...the stars knew not where their stations were..._

"Klara?"

She sucked in a sharp breath and stiffened, almost getting flattened by the wildly swinging practice bag for her trouble. She fumbled and caught the bag at last, steadying it as she tried to face Lord Thor with her customary straight back and set shoulders. She was painfully conscious of her appearance, of the sweat trickling down her temples, of her limp hair coming loose of its tie, of the tears that she had only now realized were streaming down her face. She swiped those away with the back of her wrapped hand, hoping it would appear to be only perspiration.

"My lord," she said, trying not to sound as if she were winded. She dropped a curtsy. "Forgive me, I... I should..."

"Klara..."

The prince's voice had softened from his initial questioning concern to a gentle tone of understanding, coaxing her to let down the guard she had so carefully constructed. She turned her face from him, though she still did not dare to turn away completely.

"I need to do better," she insisted, "If I'm to fulfill my duty, I have to be prepared for the worst."

"When did this become your duty?"

"When it became the only thing they saw that wasn't _him_ ," Klara answered and immediately felt a twinge of guilt for the bitterness of her tone. She took a steadying breath. "I must do something. How else am I to earn their trust?"

"And how do you plan to do that if you recklessly abandon your reason?" he asked, and it was so similar to what she and Loki had once shared that she winced, "Trust takes time, Klara, time that you may not have if you continue to throw yourself at danger as if it will-"

He stopped. Klara looked at him, actually met his eyes with a boldness she rarely dared.

"What?" she asked, "As if it will what?"

He looked pained.

"As if it will bring them back."

Klara considered this for a long moment. Was that what she was doing? In some secret part of her heart, was she trying to bring back all they had lost, by bringing pain upon herself? He was right, of course, that would not bring it back, any of it. It would not bring back the familiar that she had left behind in the palace of Asgard. It would not bring back his mother, who might have held answers that now she could only guess at. It would not bring back...

 _I swear to you, when all is done...I will return to Asgard..._

She turned away and began unraveling the wrapping on her hands. She felt Lord Thor shift uneasily at her back.

"Jane has asked us to join her in London," he said as if this had been the point of their entire conversation, "For Midwinter."

The chain at her collarbone felt suddenly heavy around her neck.

 _Just for tonight... You need never look on them again..._

"When do we leave?" she asked, trying to sound neutral, dispassionate.

"Tonight," he said, and Klara turned to him with a start, "If you're amenable. It has been agreed that your...experiments with Dr. Banner should be postponed for the holiday season."

She stiffened. So...she wasn't needed here. That was what he was telling her, that her usefulness had been wiped away, just like that, without her even being aware. She dropped her eyes demurely to the floor.

"Of course," she said, "I am always at your service, my lord."

The prince took a tentative step and put a hand on her shoulder. She did not look up.

"It will be alright, Klara," he said, "A little distance...it will help you see more clearly. And Darcy will be pleased to see you."

Klara swallowed. Darcy. That was how she knew he was truly concerned for her. Because Darcy had saved her life once. That he would bring her up at all meant he thought her life might possibly need saving again. She nodded, though her head felt heavy on her neck, and together they left the dim light of the gym behind them.

* * *

Alice woke up the next morning feeling like crap. She opened her eyes and lay very still in the dark for several moments. She didn't feel _physically_ like crap. She wasn't getting sick or anything. She just felt...emotionally crappy. She had yelled at Klara. After working so hard to get her to open up, she had screamed in her face. She hadn't even had a good reason. Sure, Klara had been stupid, but it had all worked out, hadn't it?

She turned her head and laid her cheek on the pillow. Bruce was curled up on his side, facing her, still very much asleep. He'd been sleeping since he'd gotten to the room yesterday. He hadn't even got up for dinner. He would be starving when he finally did wake up. All Alice wanted to do was curl up next to him, to press her small body into his chest and hear his heart beating solidly in his chest. She could do it. No one would bother them, not today.

She sighed and sat up, pressing a quick kiss to Bruce's forehead before she swung out of bed. She had stuff to do today. She took a quick shower and got dressed in the dark, shutting the door to their rooms behind her without even a click. When she got on the elevator, she pressed the number for Thor's floor.

"JARVIS, is Klara up yet?" she asked as the display began to count down.

"Miss Klara is no longer in the Tower."

Alice hit the emergency stop button and the elevator slid to a gentle halt.

"What?"

JARVIS repeated himself. "Miss Klara is no longer in the Tower. Therefore, I can no longer report on her status."

"Where is she?" Alice asked, and then realized that was a dumb question. "When did she leave?"

"She and Lord Thor departed from the rooftop at 04:38 this morning," he said, "I believe they were invited to stay in London with Dr. Foster."

"Oh."

Alice felt pushed a little off-kilter by that. She hadn't expected them to just...leave. She hadn't even gotten a chance to apologize, or explain-

"Miss Ripley?" JARVIS asked, "Would you like to continue to Level 27?"

"What?" Alice asked, then shook her head, "No. No, I... What about Tony, is he in his shop?"

"Mr. Stark is indeed on Level 55," JARVIS said, "I will alter direction."

The elevator started up and in seconds Alice was stepping out of the doors and into a blast of drums and guitar riffs. Metallica? She walked around the cavernous room and found Tony on his back on the floor, a welder's helmet on, blasting a huge plate of metal to a tiny part that Alice couldn't identify. She averted her eyes until the bright blue light subsided.

"Tony?" she shouted, but her voice was barely a whisper in the noise. She rolled her eyes and kicked the bottom of his work boot with her sneaker.

He jumped and something beneath the metal behemoth clanged. Alice thought she heard the muffled sound of cursing and she crossed her arms in smug satisfaction. The music cut off and Tony emerged, covered in engine grease and rubbing his scalp with a gloved hand.

"Son of a bitch," he grumbled, "Doesn't anybody knock anymore?"

"Would you have heard me?" Alice asked.

"No," Tony said, rolling to his feet and pulling the heavy welding gloves off, "That's supposed to be the point."

"Did you know that Thor and Klara left?"

"Yeah," he said, reaching for a dirty cloth to mop at his face, "JARVIS informed me of that in the wee hours. Don't know why they couldn't have waited until a decent hour-"

"Are they coming back?" Alice interrupted, trying not to sound anxious, "I mean, how long are they supposed to be gone?"

"Beats me," Tony said, clicking a button and sending a huge diagram spiraling into the air around them, "Thor left me a message, said Jane had invited them for Christmas. So I guess at least that long."

"Oh."

Tony looked over his shoulder at her from an adjustment he had been making in his diagram.

"What, did you get Thor a Christmas present or something?"

"No," Alice said, wrapping her arms around her, "No, don't be stupid."

There was a long silence. Alice looked away, over Tony's shoulder to the diagram hovering in multicolored lights.

"So, is that Veronica?"

He grinned and let her change the subject. It didn't matter anyway. This was better.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Two weeks.

Klara stepped carefully down the stairs of the jet and onto the tarmac, wrapping her coat about her against the flurries of snow dancing in the air. It had been two weeks and it was like she hadn't even been gone. She had left in a flurry of snowfall and returned in the same way. Cyclical, circular...

"Aw, sweet!" Darcy Lewis exclaimed, shouldering past her and heading for the long, dark vehicle that waited for them. Happy Hogan opened the back door to allow the bespectacled girl entrance, nodding his head at Klara as she ducked past him and entered the cab to escape the cold.

It was cozy within, with seating enough for all of them, Darcy and Klara on one side, Dr. Foster and Lord Thor huddled together on the other.

"Dude, I can't believe you wanted me to stay at the lab," Darcy said, pressing a button on the console beside her, which opened a secret compartment containing a green, foil-wrapped bottle and four glasses, "Yes! Jackpot!"

"I just don't know how Selvig is going to handle heading the project research on his own," Dr. Foster said, attempting to bat Darcy's hand from the bottle and failing, "You know he gets...spacey still sometimes."

"He'll be fine," Darcy said with airy confidence as she unwrapped the foil and began fiddling with the corked top of the bottle, "It's research, he's good at that. Besides, Ian's with him."

"That does not inspire confidence."

"Hey, I don't go around dissing your boy toy." The cork exploded from the top of the bottle and Klara let out a shriek as she was doused in a spray of liquid that smelled distinctly of alcohol. "Whoops! Sorry."

To make up for it, Darcy poured the first glass and handed it to Klara with an apologetic grin.

"Boy toy?" Lord Thor asked, raising an amused eyebrow as he accepted his own glass of the fizzy liquid.

Darcy did not even look sheepish as she handed Dr. Foster a glass, keeping the last and the bottle for herself. "He keeps me entertained and he's a boy. Boy toy!"

"Do I keep you entertained then?" Lord Thor asked Dr. Foster, who blushed and took a rather large sip from her glass.

Klara put her nose into the narrow opening of the glass and sniffed delicately. Once you got past the alcohol, the liquid smelled sweet and light, like fruit in a bowl. She was reminded of the silver bowls that she used to inspect and refill in Lady Frigga's chamber and took a sip to assuage the memory. The drink burst on her tongue like the bubbles in the glass. It was a curiously pleasant sensation and she took another sip.

They arrived quickly enough and piled out onto the sidewalk in front of Avengers Tower.

"God, it's freezing!" Darcy said, grabbing Klara's arm and hauling her toward the revolving doors, "Come on, let's get inside!"

With little resistance (as Darcy might have said, resistance was futile) Klara allowed the girl to pull her through the doors and into the marble receiving hall, where they were all scanned and given green approval messages.

"Welcome and welcome back, respectively," the voice of JARVIS intoned, "The others are gathered in the lounge area if you care to make your way to Level 57."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Lord Thor said, putting an arm around Dr. Foster's shoulders and leading the way to the elevators.

Klara followed only because Darcy still had their arms twined together, and she grinned at Klara's hesitation.

"AI butlers," she said, sounding like an overexcited school girl, "This is so cool!"

Klara felt that the journey upwards took both too little and too much time. There was a sense of impending dread as the numbers ticked by on the electronic display, and Klara didn't even realize that she had tensed until she felt pressure on her arm. Darcy was still grinning at her, but there was something else in her eyes, a subtle sincerity behind the frames of her glasses.

"Breathe," she ordered, and Klara obeyed almost without thought, taking a long inhale and a slow exhale. Darcy smiled as the elevator chimed and they all stepped out into the lounge.

"Finally!" Tony Stark exclaimed, hopping down the raised step where the table stood at the far end of the room and striding toward them with a wide, welcoming smile, a glass of wine in one hand, the other outstretched to Thor, who took it jovially, "Now we can get back to work!"

He turned to Klara then, his smile still wide and friendly as he took her hand in his and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to it.

"Welcome back, Klara! Who's your friend?"

He turned his attention to Darcy and winked. Klara, expecting a quip from the girl and hearing none, turned to give her a puzzled look. The girl was staring, her mouth slightly ajar.

"Oh," Klara said, caught off-guard by Darcy's lack of response, "Oh, this is Darcy Lewis, Dr. Foster's assistant. Miss Lewis, may I present Mr. Anthony Stark."

"Tony works fine," he said, taking Darcy's unresponsive hand and pressing another quick kiss to it, "Well, apparently for everyone but Asgardian handmaidens. And this must be the elusive Dr. Foster herself!"

With Tony Stark's attention safely directed elsewhere, Darcy seemed to come out of her daze and blinked at Klara.

"Wow," she said, "That was weird. I don't think I've ever fangirled so hard in my life."

Klara gave her a somewhat perplexed smile. "I suppose he is a presence that takes some getting used to."

"No kidding."

By this time the others had made their way down from the table and introductions were made. Darcy _'fangirled'_ again over Captain Rogers, but the effect of Tony Stark must have prepared her for it because she managed at least a smile for the captain. Klara tried to hang back, but Dr. Banner made a point to seek her out, taking her hand in his with a warm smile.

"Good to have you back, Klara," he said, and to her amazement, he sounded utterly sincere. She stared at him for a moment before she managed to nod her head in acknowledgment. Instinctively, she looked about but did not see Alice anywhere.

"Alice is out on a flight," he said, as if reading her thoughts, "She'll be back in the morning."

"All night?" she asked, brow furrowed, "Alone?"

"It's part of the requirements for her flight test," he said, shrugging, "She'll be alright. She has JARVIS with her if something goes wrong."

"Oh," she said, "And Miss Romanov?"

"Took some time off for Christmas," he said, "She'll be back on the first."

"I see." She wanted to ask if Clint Barton had returned in her absence, but felt it might be an imposition. Also, she might not want to hear the answer.

"Let's have dinner! I'm starving, are you starving?" Mr. Stark said, encircling Miss Potts' waist and planting a kiss on her cheek, "We ordered steak!"

They had a fine meal and were given to their rooms. Before they retired to their beds, Darcy Lewis gave Klara a long, tight hug.

"Told you it would be fine," she said, pulling back and grinning, "You worry too much!"

Klara smiled and wished her a good night. But as she shut the door on the quiet dark of her own room, she could not help but think she wasn't quite done worrying yet.

* * *

It had finally stopped snowing, thank god. Alice carefully guided the quinjet over the city, watching the snow sparkle below in the sunlight. From here, it actually looked clean. Funny what a little distance could do your perspective. She smirked and swung north-west, toward the glittering finger of glass that stuck out like a beacon. Home. Her earpiece came to life with the exaggerated sound of fake static and clicks.

"Breaker, breaker, one-nine, what is your ETA? Over!"

Alice rolled her eyes.

"I'm gonna break your one-nine, Tony Stark, if you don't get off the line and let me concentrate," she muttered, pressing a series of buttons and lowering the altitude a smidge to line up with the landing pad.

"Oh god, look out, we've got a bogie incoming!" he yelled out of the speaker, as if to an imaginary audience, "Brace for impact everyone, brace for impact, she's comin' in hot!"

"You're an ass," she said, as she guided the bird with almost no effort into the slots that marked her landing, "I should ding the side of the building for that."

"You'd just have to go out again," he said, and she could almost hear his smirk, "What exactly is your dignity worth to you, Miss Ripley?"

"Apparently less than that," she grumbled as the hangar doors closed behind her, "See you in a minute, jerk."

And with that she turned off the comms and breathed a sigh of relief, watching the landing lights slowly come up outside the windows and outline the interior of the hangar. She went through the routine safety checks and _finally_ unstrapped from her harness.

"All clear, Miss Ripley," JARVIS said from the speakers, "Welcome home."

The back door dropped open, to the annoying fanfare of Tony Stark trying to imitate a bugle playing reveille.

"Hail the conquering hero!" he sang out before giving her an exaggerated salute.

"I hate you," she said, walking straight past him down the ramp to give Bruce a kiss, "Not you. Just him."

Bruce smiled and pressed his nose to hers in a little gesture of affection before releasing her.

"Seriously though, how was it?" he asked, taking her bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Cold," she said, calling out over her shoulder, "The heating in the back could use some work, Tony."

"It's a metal shell, not exactly made for long stays in the Arctic," Tony said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he trudged along beside them, "But I'll see what I can do."

She smiled at him as he held the door open for her and Bruce to go through.

"God, I need a shower," she said, "Anything exciting happen here?"

"We're nearly a full house again!" Tony announced, "Thor and his entourage showed up last night. Isn't it nice when the kids come home for the holidays?"

Alice felt a little jolt in her gut, but she tried not to show it. She kept on smiling as Tony kept talking all the way down to the floor she shared with Bruce.

"Well, I guess I've got work to do in the shop," he said finally when the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, "But I expect to see you both at the party tonight, dressed to the nines!"

Alice rolled her eyes as she stepped off the elevator.

"It's literally just us, Tony," she said, walking backward to keep her eye on him, "Why would I need to dress up for that?"

"Aw, come on Alice," he said, pressing a new button on the elevator, "It's New Year's Eve!"

He winked as the doors slid closed, not even giving Alice enough time to throw him a friendly middle finger in retort.

"He's insufferable," she sighed, turning to walk with Bruce to their room, "And exhausting. I don't know how you put up with him for as many hours as you do."

"I try to forget he's there," Bruce said, a small smile twitching his lips, "That really pisses him off."

She laughed and wrapped her arm in his, leaning into him and just loving being close to him. She always missed him when she wasn't here. She wondered if that would ever change. She hoped not.

* * *

Darcy had convinced Klara to wear the dress.

"It's the nicest thing you own!" she'd said, as if this were a perfectly logical line of reasoning, "It's a party, Klara. Dress-up is required."

But now, standing in the dim light of the lounge, looking out on the sparkling city below, Klara wished she had ignored Darcy's arbitrary requirement. The flowing lavender and the glints of silver that touched the sheen and accents of the gown kept catching her eye and making her throat close. Her fingers touched the fabric unnecessarily. This was the first and only gift Lady Frigga had ever bestowed on her. It hurt to think of it.

"Hey."

She turned toward the voice, her heart in her throat. Alice was fiddling with the stem of her glass, filled with more of the bubbly drink Darcy called champagne, and toeing at the carpet with one black boot. She was dressed in a black sequined gown with sleeves that hugged her elbows and a skirt that touched her knees, leaving only a small bit of her leggings visible above her boots, patterned with a sparkly star motif. The outfit worked with her short stature and shoulder-length hair to give her an almost childlike appearance, and Klara was reminded of how very young she was, barely over twenty years. It was staggering.

"So," Alice said, tapping the pad of one finger against her glass, "Listen: when you were here last, I...look, I didn't mean to get all up in your face. I just got, I don't know, worked up. I'm sorry." She glanced up into Klara's eyes and away again. "I was gonna tell you that the next day, but..."

But Klara had already been gone, whisked away into the snowy night by Lord Thor. Klara felt an even tighter knot forming in her throat and she swallowed to dispel it.

"I'm sorry too," she said and Alice looked startled by that, "I overstepped my bounds. I should have trusted Dr. Banner's judgment, and not simply assumed he meant to shield me unnecessarily. I only..." She hesitated.

"It's hard to know," Alice filled in, "If it's actually dangerous or if they're just fretting because you're...not _them_."

Klara blinked in surprise. Alice seemed to have the uncanny ability to say exactly what needed to be said, in exactly the way it needed to be said, no flowery terms or beating around the bush about it. Alice smiled and raised her glass in an offering.

"Tell you what," she said, "I'll be your danger meter if you'll be mine."

Klara happily returned the gesture. "Agreed."

The glasses made a musical chime as they touched and each girl sipped. With an awkward smile, Alice wandered off toward the hors d'oeuvres bar that had been set up by the kitchen.

"I think she missed you." Captain Rogers stepped up from the lounge area, hands in his dark trouser pockets, a lock of his hair dropping over his sparkling blue eyes. "She's been a little...off-balance since you left."

"I did not mean to cause distress," Klara said, and then considered her words and dropped her eyes to her wine glass, "No more than I already had, at any rate. Lord Thor thought it would be best."

"I know," the captain said, "He told me. I just...wanted you to know you were missed."

Klara dared to flick her eyes up. He was staring down into his own glass, and there were words on the tip of her tongue, a barely formed thought...which was suddenly dashed by a loud squawk of sound made Klara jump with a startled laugh. Tony Stark was juggling his drink and a microphone in one hand as he scrambled on top of a chair (Miss Potts doing her best to help him keep his feet). Once he was settled, he raised the microphone to his lips and his wrist to his face ceremoniously.

"Alright, kids, here we go!" he shouted, magnified by the speakers hidden throughout the lounge, "Ten! Nine!"

The other Midgardians all raised their glasses and began to count with him.

"Six! Five!"

Klara caught Lord Thor's eye from across the room. He shrugged jovially and raised his glass with them.

"Two! One! _Happy New Year!"_

There was a loud cheer and a swarm of balloons floated down from the ceiling, covering everyone in a sea of black and gold and silver. There was laughterand, huggingand, the sounds of glasses chiming. Dr. Banner swept Alice up to his lips in a kiss, and Mr. Stark nearly tumbled off his chair trying to bend down for a kiss from Miss Potts. Darcy appeared out of the maelstrom of streamers and balloons, flinging her arms about Klara's neck and nearly knocking them both off balance.

"Happy New Year!" she slurred, bopping Klara's nose and grinning like a loon, "And many happy more!"

Klara returned her grin (she couldn't help it) and managed to clink her glass to Darcy's unsteady one. "And to you, Darcy Lewis."

"You need more booze," Darcy declared, attempting to tug her toward the kitchen area, "Come on!"

"Oh, I really don't think-"

In the midst of the revelry, it was amazing how loud the elevator chime sounded in Klara's ears. She turned toward the sound as the doors slid open.

"Did I miss the party?" Clint Barton asked, smiling around the room as he stepped from the elevator, Natasha Romanov close on his heels. Klara's heart dropped to her stomach.

"Clint!" Alice squealed and ran to fling herself at the other man, who had to drop his bag to catch her and spin her around.

"Woah, easy high-flyer," he said, as he dropped her back on her feet, "You miss me?"

"Nah," Alice said, though her spreading grin belied her, "Just been waiting to take my flight test _forever-"_

"Alright, first thing in the morning!" he said, reaching around the girl as Captain Rogers approached, his hand outstretched. The captain did not look nearly as pleased to see the archer as Alice, and his grip tensed as he took his hand.

"We good?"

Clint Barton nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm ready. Let's get to work."

Only then did Captain Rogers smile. "In that case, welcome back."

As Clint Barton began to make his way around the room, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Klara felt painfully exposed. Here she was, in the dress she had worn the night she had first taken _his_ gifts, the tokens of affection that she had not understood at the time, but now understood very well. And she could not face Clint Barton, not like this, not with this blatant show of everything he hated flaunted on her skin.

So she fled. First at a walk, but by the time she had reached the elevators she was running, the sound of her sandals on the tiles a soft slap that seemed to pierce the air with every step. The doors slid open immediately at her touch, and as she turned to press the button that would take her away, she caught Clint Barton's eye. He watched her, a careful expression on his face, until the doors slid shut and hid her from his view.

She shut her eyes and leaned back against the cool metal wall, her fist clenched around the pendant hung at her neck.

* * *

 **A/N:** Guess who's back! ;D


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Whoops, I'm running a tiny bit late today, guys, sorry! This chapter isn't very long, and not a lot happens, but guess what? We're over halfway through the story! I know, I can't believe it either :) Anyway, enjoy!

 **Chapter Fourteen**

While Alice was grateful that Clint had no intention of making good on his threat to test her immediately, she was still left with the awkward responsibility of explaining why she couldn't start her lessons again on Monday morning.

"I like to be there," she said, "When Bruce changes."

Clint took the news of Klara's involvement in these experiments surprisingly well. He remained neutral through Alice's stuttered explanation, only nodding and making noncommittal noises in response. Then he rescheduled their flights for Tuesday, without so much as a blink. Sure, he didn't seem exactly thrilled about it, but there was no outright hostility either. Alice thought that showed a shocking amount of progress.

He even showed up at Friday's movie night, apparently of his own free will. Nat had come in at least five minutes before, and Alice had already braced herself for the disappointment when he came striding in, hands in his pockets and actually smiling.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he flopped down on the couch next to Nat, "Did I miss the pull already?"

"JARVIS was just about to announce the lucky winner!" Darcy said, sitting scrunched up with Thor, Jane, and Klara, who had stiffened at the archer's entrance, "I still can't believe you guys have a movie night, whoever came up with this is a genius!"

"Alice did, actually," Bruce said, smiling.

"Dude, you're even cooler than I thought!" Darcy exclaimed, "And you're dating the Hulk, so I already thought you were pretty badass."

Alice rolled her eyes, feeling her face heat up and trying to ignore it.

"JARVIS, save me please," she pleaded.

"Dr. Jane Foster," he announced in prompt response.

"Aw, no fair!" Darcy said, flinging herself back onto the couch and pouting.

Alice held out the box to Jane who smiled and took one of the folded papers in her delicate fingers.

"The Empire Strikes Back?" she said, confused, "Who puts the sequel in a movie night box?"

"We already saw the first one," Steve said, looking very pleased, "I've been waiting to see what happens next."

They settled in, Alice squeezing in between Pepper and Bruce, and making sure the popcorn was within easy reach of everyone, including Tony. Thor seemed to get a real kick out of Yoda, Natasha made sure to make whooping noises anytime Leia told Han off, and the reveal at the end elicited a stunned, 'Aw, no _way!_ ' from Steve which made everyone else cheer in enthusiastic good humor. When it was over, Steve immediately turned to Tony, a stunned expression still on his face.

"Really? His _dad?"_

Which began a rousing conversation that involved a lot of references to 'You'll have to watch the prequels.' Followed by 'There are prequels?' Clint vaulted over the couches and settled in next to Steve to join in, and that prompted Alice to look around for Klara. She was still here, but she was sitting very still and looking _very_ pale.

"Klara?" Thor asked, "Are you alright?"

The girl swallowed and tried to smile, but it was the worst attempt Alice had ever seen.

"I'm...forgive me, I...don't feel very well."

She got up from the couch and Darcy immediately followed her example with an exaggerated stretch.

"Yeah, you know what, I'm beat. I'll go with you."

As the two left the room together, Alice got up and settled in the spot beside Thor that had recently been vacated.

"Was it the movie?" she asked in an undertone.

Thor shook his head, looking as puzzled as she felt. "Truly, I do not know. Family is a difficult subject for Klara. She never knew her mother and father, and I get the impression that there was some kind of falling out between her and her guardian before we departed Asgard. Elli is a harsh woman, but for many years, she was all that Klara had."

Alice felt a lump in her throat. She had known her parents, and they had been taken from her. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to not have known your parents, ever.

"Will she be alright, do you think?"

"Darcy will stay with her," Jane said, with complete confidence, "They're close. Or at least, as close as you can be to Klara. She's a hard person to get to know. But Darcy seems to _get_ her, as weird as that sounds."

It did sound pretty weird, actually. From what little Alice had seen, the two girls couldn't have been more different. But maybe that was the point. They said opposites attract after all. She rubbed at the gold rings on her wrist and hoped that Klara would be alright.

* * *

Klara's uneasiness following the film on Friday was relatively short-lived, much to her own personal relief. When pressed by Darcy, she found that she couldn't even quite articulate what it was that had upset her. Perhaps the sudden realization that Luke's father was, in fact, a creature of darkness, something that she herself had experienced when her own past had been revealed? But she couldn't very well tell that to Darcy (she couldn't speak that to anyone, not without the fear that Lord Thor might discover it), and besides, it didn't quite ring true. She was not some mythical savior, no hero of light as Luke Skywalker was. She was not even the rebellious princess that Leia represented, though apparently, royal blood coursed in her veins. She was only Klara, a maidservant, and now barely that.

Perhaps it had been the betrayal by Lando Calrissian, who had been like a brother to Han Solo and yet sold his friends into the hands of their enemies, only to repent his unfaithfulness and work to correct it through his final actions, which spoke so strongly of Loki that even now, days later, it still brought a tightness to her throat. If only Loki's story could have ended so. If only...

But it did not matter. Whatever it had been, it passed, thanks in large part to the efforts of Darcy Lewis. Darcy did not allow her to stay sequestered in her room brooding as she might have liked, and by Monday, Klara felt ready to face whatever waited for her below in the Dungeon. She was accompanied by Lord Thor, as usual, but also by Dr. Foster for scientific purposes, and by Darcy Lewis whose only excuse appeared to be an exclamation of 'Because it's the Hulk!'

Thus did Klara arrive with her entourage, right on schedule, and discovered that she was to have an even larger audience than she'd expected. Tony Stark was fiddling with his buttons, and Alice Ripley smiled at her from his side. Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers were there, looking anxious. And Clint Barton had also decided to join them, leaning against a far wall and saying nothing, but Klara could feel his eyes fixed on her as Miss Romanov fitted her panic button and Captain Rogers double checked that it was working.

"Jesus, what are you, the captain of perfectionism?" Stark snapped as the captain pressed the button for the third time, "It works already!"

Klara did not take offense to this, and neither, it seemed, did Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark had been moodier than usual since Miss Potts had left the Tower to return to the LA office and it appeared that ignoring his bursts of temper was the universally accepted method of dealing with them.

"Can we please get this over with?" Stark sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I have a headache."

"We can do this another time, Tony," Alice offered, looking as if she wanted to touch his shoulder, but then thought better of it, "It's not a big deal."

"No, we're already down here, I'm not wasting a whole damn day," he muttered, fiddling with a knob before resetting it to the exact same position it had been in before, "I just want to finish, short test run, get our feet wet again. You hear that, Big Guy?" he asked, switching on the speaker, "Short and sweet, think you can handle that?"

"Do my best," came the mumbled reply from within the familiar white room. Dr. Banner had his eyes closed, a hand folded over his fist and resting at his chest, a look of serene concentration on his face.

The explosion was muffled, the roar muted, and it seemed that the Hulk did not mind his box as much as he had before. Klara watched as he went through the steps of testing the walls, the corners, the glass, and then stood back, nostrils flaring, pacing back and forth in tiny circuits. She turned to Alice, but her question must have been clear on her face because Alice was already answering before she could give it voice.

"We've been working out a backup system since you've been gone," she said, nodding to Miss Romanov, "It's not as effective, but we figured it would be good to keep him in practice. We think he's getting used to it."

"You're up anti-Hulk," Stark said, not sharply, but with no warmth either, distracted.

Klara approached the door and put her hands behind her back, shutting her eyes and preparing for what was ahead. The last time she had stepped beyond this door...the roar, the rush, the blinding pain as she struck the wall... She took a sharp breath through her nose and then released it, letting go of that memory. Her shoulders relaxed and her back straightened. She opened her eyes. She could do this. It was her duty.

"Ready?" Alice asked.

Klara nodded. The door hissed open and without looking back, she stepped inside.

* * *

Alice flipped on the speakers again as Klara stepped inside and the door shut behind her. There were a few moments of tense silence.

"Hello again, my friend."

The Hulk's reaction was surprised and immediate. He jerked back and roared, taking two steps forward...and then he retreated, hunkered down, eying Klara with caution but making no further move toward her.

"Woah," Tony muttered, checking his readouts, "I think he's showing anxiety."

That was...different. Alice allowed her eyes to wander to the screens as Klara's soothing voice carried through the speakers.

"It's been some time. And I fear we did not leave things in a good place. May we try again?"

"Damn." Alice jumped. She had not realized that Clint had walked up behind her, peering through the window. "She's really trying to talk to him, isn't she?"

"Not just trying," Steve said, with a hint of defensiveness, "Succeeding."

"You think he understands what she's saying?" Clint asked as they all watched Klara approach the Hulk with soft, deliberate steps.

"He might not have a complete grasp of the actual words," Tony said, in a clinical voice, "But there is compelling evidence to suggest that something in the way she talks to him has an impact on his metabolic processes and brain activity. Whatever's getting through that thick green skull, it's having an effect."

Clint frowned but didn't reply. They watched as Klara approached the Hulk, reaching out for him.

"No more be grieved at that which thou hast done..."

Hulk shied away from her hand, dropped his head and turned his shoulder as if to shield her from himself. Alice felt her heart lurch, a sharp pang of sympathy. Klara moved forward another step, her hand still outstretched, palm up, coaxing but not insistent.

"Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,

Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,

And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud."

He snorted and peeked back over his shoulder at the girl, who moved forward another step, now almost within arm's reach of his skin. But still she made no move to touch him, instead lowering herself to a crouch, one hand touching the floor, the other still held out to him.

"All men make faults, and even I in this,

Authorizing thy trespass with compare."

His forehead wrinkled, but Klara remained perfectly still. Finally, he reached out with one large hand and allowed the back of his knuckles to come to rest in Klara's open palm. Her smile widened as his skin rippled at her touch.

"Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,

Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are."

The transformation seemed almost easy, and Bruce was already sitting up, running a hand through his mussed hair by the time the door had opened and everyone filed into the room.

"That was freaking badass!" Darcy exclaimed, making a beeline for Klara standing off to one side, out of the way of Tony and his equipment, "You are the bomb, Klara!"

"I have to admit, that was fascinating to witness," Jane agreed, watching over Tony's shoulder as he worked, "And you say it has to do with electrical impulses?"

"Yeah, there's a disruption in the natural wavelength, you can see it right here," Tony said, lifting his pad and pointing at the data.

"You alright?" Steve asked, giving Klara a thorough once over with his eyes.

Klara blinked at him, then replied a bit hesitantly, "Yes. Fine."

"I'm starving," Bruce said, "Do we have any more of that takeout left? I would give just about anything for some orange chicken."

"You can have an entire orange chicken," Alice said, helping him to his feet and letting him lean on her when he swayed, "I'll order once we get back to the room."

"This is why I love you," he said, smiling lazily down at her and making her heart do acrobatics in her chest.

"I hope that's not the _only_ reason," she huffed.

"Innumerable," he mumbled, almost incoherently, "Infinite."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving her free hand at the assembled group, "We're out of here!"

Tony waved back absently, Jane still hovering at his elbow, the others all talking together. Except Clint. They passed him on their way out the door, leaning on the steel frame and watching it all take place with a carefully controlled expression.

"We still on for tomorrow?" Alice asked, and he nodded, but the gesture was almost absent.

"Tomorrow?" Bruce asked, his brow furrowed and his words starting to slur (she hoped they would be able to make it to the room before he passed out), "You have a date with Bird-Boy?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, dear. A hot date, prepping for a flight test. Real steamy stuff."

"Steam is bad," Bruce mused as the elevator took them up, "Fog up the windows, can't see..."

She managed to get him in bed before he went completely limp, but it was a near thing. She flopped down next to him on her back, staring at the ceiling. No point in ordering the takeout for a few hours now. Instead, she continued to fret about Clint and the strangely noncommittal expression he was wearing these days. At least it wasn't anger. At least he was still here.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Welcome to the chapter of bittersweet, unapologetic fluff! I want you all to know that I regret nothing ;P Onward!

 **Chapter Fifteen**

Dr. Jane Foster returned to Greenwich at the end of the week, taking Darcy Lewis with her, and though Klara lamented the loss of her friend, she found that the return to routine was very welcome. There was a strange sense of normality to the weeks that followed. She returned to her training, both with Captain Rogers and Miss Romanov (surprising, considering her strong relationship with the recently returned Clint Barton, but Klara did not mention this). She submitted to further testing by Tony Stark, while she and Dr. Banner kept their weekly Monday appointment. There were other movie nights, with a surprising variety of films displayed: comedies, dramas, adventures, some classics that even Klara had heard of in her limited experience, some more obscure. They watched the conclusion to the Star Wars trilogy, during which Klara found herself hiding tears in the rec room, tears that flowed more freely in the privacy of her own room.

She exchanged not one word with Clint Barton. He was not openly hostile toward her, and if she entered a room he did not immediately leave it. But though he would meet her eyes and nod to acknowledge her presence on occasion, this was as close to communication as they ever ventured. Klara had to admit that she preferred this. She did not know what she might say to him, should he ever choose to speak. She could not imagine that anything she had to say would in anyway hasten their relationship. She still did not blame him. In fact, she felt nothing but admiration for him, that he had come so far in what felt like such a short time.

Klara also developed a deeper appreciation for Alice Ripley. The girl was unfailingly optimistic if a little distant and awkward on occasion. She and Dr. Banner were nigh on inseparable, their easy affection and obvious adoration of one another a glowing comfort to all who happened to stumble into the circle of their warmth. Tony Stark especially seemed to bask in it like a man too long in the dark, while Klara hovered around the edges, unsure and off-balance.

Everyone in the Tower seemed to hold at least a passing fondness for Alice, and when they celebrated her flight licensing achievement in late January, it was with an almost familial affection. After which, Alice shut herself in her room for days and refused to come out, much as had happened on the evening of Thanksgiving. Dr. Banner was able to coax her out eventually, but she would see no one else, not even Klara when she made a tentative appearance.

While Klara did not always know what triggered these episodes, she suspected that there was a great loss at the heart of Alice's dips into was a difficult subject for Klara to broach. Having none of her own (or, at least, none thatwere aware of the relation), she had spent much of her life on the outside of familial units looking in. But while she could not possibly hope to understand Alice's grief, it did make Klara's own moments of weakness seem like less of an oddity, and so she was selfishly grateful. She had her own darkness to conceal, a darkness that remained at bay for many weeks. Klara knew, of course, it could not last. It never did.

* * *

It finally reared its ugly head on a cold, clear afternoon, when the Tower lay quiet and still, settled in the way only an established home can be. Klara had taken it into her head that she might like a cup of that tea Alice favored, chai. She had seen the drink prepared many times, and she was certain she could replicate the procedure with no trouble. She was alone when she stepped out of the elevator onto the penthouse floor, hands clasped behind her, striding forward as she used to among the palace court. It was strange how very much Avengers Tower felt like Asgard to her now. Familiar, if not beloved.

She almost didn't see them. They were so quiet and still, like the rest of the Tower. But something caught her eye, and...there they were. Dr. Banner and Alice laid out on one of the lounge couches, content and unaware. The doctor, dressed as usual in his slacks and rolled up shirt sleeves, glasses perched upon his nose as he studied the semi-transparent screen in his hands. Alice sprawled beside him, her flannel-clad legs draped over his lap, back propped against the sofa arm, chewing on a pencil and studying one of her school books with intense concentration. Klara froze, blinking at them. They were so...perfect. Like puzzle pieces, fitted together and displayed as art. And they weren't even conscious of it, as oblivious to their own perfection as they were to their surroundings. Did they understand how lucky they were? How fortunate to have found each other, to have this time to discover what it was to be two parts of the same whole?

 _For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings..._

The room was too close. She couldn't remember why she had come. She shouldn't be here. She turned and stepped back into the elevator, standing perfectly straight as the metal door slid shut, cutting off her view of the sunlit room.

"Miss Klara?" The voice of JARVIS came through the speakers, sounding tinny and odd in her ears. "Are you alright? You appear to be in distress."

Distress. Yes, that was just the right word. She shut her eyes and clasped her hands behind her, taking a deep breath through her nose. But when she tried to visualize what usually gave her strength, the cool, calm of the dungeons, it only made her chest clench and her lips tremble. Her fingers ached. She could not hold on tight enough.

"Shall I call Lord Thor?"

Klara's eyes snapped open.

"No. No, that won't be necessary, JARVIS, thank you. I'm perfectly alright."

"As you like, Miss. Would you like to return to Level 27?"

Back. Back to her room, with only her thoughts and memories for company, the stale air of a boxed-in existence...

"No. Take me up."

"Yes, Miss."

* * *

She didn't know how long it took for Lord Thor to find her. She had braced herself against the freezing wind, wrapping an arm around the outcrop of antennae stuck through the tiny platform at the very top of the Tower. The elevator did not even go this high; she'd had to take a service stair up to the maintenance hatch before she'd been able to find the clear, cold air. Her hair was loose and flying, and she could no longer feel her fingers, but she did not care. She closed her eyes and simply breathed the cold. She had breathed that cold once before, a sigh of tingling mint on her tongue. The silver around her neck burned, and the pendant that hung at her breastbone felt heavy, but she stood up under the weight. She had to. She couldn't let it drag her down, back into the warm, welcoming dark...

"Klara?"

She sucked in a breath so abruptly that it almost choked her, swallowing back what might have been a sob. She did not turn to face the painfully familiar voice, though every instinct called for it. Instead, she stared out over the city of New York, a city that the one she mourned had once tried to destroy. And for what? For a throne that did not exist? She would never understand-

"Klara...what are you doing up here?"

It took her a moment to understand the hint of anxiety in Lord Thor's voice, the careful neutrality of the question. He was afraid. Not of the height, but of what the height might do. To her. Out of curiosity, she leaned forward a touch and looked down. From this height, the Midgardians scuttling about on the ground, either on foot or encased in their metal vehicles, were no more than a vague sense of movement. No individuality at all, a single entity pushing inexorably forward. How strange.

"Klara." Lord Thor's tone tensed and she rocked back onto flat feet to ease his mind. He could catch her, of course, if she fell. If she-but no. She was past that now. The darkness was even now receding. She had only ever given in once, and that time it had not been Lord Thor that had saved her. She wondered if that was what bothered him so, why he was so vigilant. Because once he had not been. And he had already lost so much. They both had.

She shut her eyes and let the wind wash over her again.

"I can only miss him when I am alone."

He had started to move closer, but at this, he stopped. She opened her eyes, gazing out at the great empty forest of metal and glass.

"Missing your mother is easy," she confessed, "Lady Frigga, she was beloved, even by those who did not know her. But he..."

She trailed off, listening to the wind carrying echoes of words spoken by those whom Lord Thor called friends, words she had heard in the corridors of the palace in Asgard countless times, over and over.

 _...monster... murderer... traitor..._

"...he is the villain of their story," she said, "To have loved him is the cruelest of betrayals. One for which they can never forgive me."

Thor stepped closer, and Klara had not realized how close he was until he took her by the shoulder and turned her gently to face him. He was smiling, but it was a sad smile.

"I miss him too."

Something within Klara cracked and she tried to set her jaw against it. She was shaking, she knew he must feel it beneath his hands. He took another step and wrapped her in his arms, enfolding her despite her stiffness, her resistance to the gesture.

"You are not alone, Klara," he murmured into her hair, "I'm here with you."

She couldn't stand against that, against the kindness, the trust, the goodness that was so much like his mother, so very much of Frigga within her son. Klara dug her aching fingers into the fabric of his shirt and wetted his shoulder with her tears.

* * *

Alice was surprised when Klara approached her and Bruce the morning of Valentine's Day, holding two pale pink envelopes and looking pleased with herself.

"I know it isn't traditional," she admitted, handing the envelopes to each of them, "But I am told it is not unheard of to give your friends gifts on this day, and so I...that is, I hope you like it."

Alice raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Bruce, who gave her a little shrug. They both opened their envelopes and pulled out what was inside. For a moment all Alice could do was stare.

It was a picture, a 5x7 glossy, of Alice and Bruce. They were in the lounge, the light coming in through the big picture windows as if directed specifically for this photo opportunity, Bruce leaned back with a tablet in his hand, Alice draped across him and pouring over her NCLEX practice book. It wasn't all that significant in the moment, nothing that anyone might have noticed had they just been walking by. They weren't posing, hell, Alice was wearing her ratty old pajama bottoms. But somehow it...it _fit_. Suspended like this, in this moment of stillness, she could see all the little details that she loved so much about Bruce. The way the light touched his curls, the way his glasses perched on the end of his nose, the little twitch at the corner of his mouth when he read something interesting, the way his rolled up cuffs accentuated the line of his arms. Every little detail of him was all right there. Right next to her.

She looked at the man beside her. He was staring at a copy of the same picture with a look of fierce concentration as if he needed to commit it to memory before it spontaneously combusted. When he finally met her eyes again, the dark brown was so intense it was almost black. Alice held his gaze for a moment, then turned back to Klara. The girl's eyes were flitting between them, her spine stiff and her hands clasped behind her in a familiar posture of unease.

"You don't like them," she said, failing to mask her disappointment, "I'm sorry for my intrusion, I only-oh!"

Alice had her arms around her before she could finish her stupid, _stupid_ thought, squeezing her tight to cut her off. It took a minute for the stiffness to relax, but eventually, Klara's hands responded to tentatively return the hug.

"So...you do like it, then?"

Alice couldn't help it. She laughed. She laughed so hard that she was able to conceal her tears with it, wiping her eyes as she stepped back and looked the girl right in her confused face.

"Yes," she said, "Yes, Klara, we like it. Thank you."

To Klara's evident surprise (and Alice's too) Bruce hugged the girl next, murmuring his own thank you. When he pulled back, Klara was beaming.

"Well, I'm very glad," she said, dipping into a curtsy, "I will leave you now, I hear you have a lovely day planned, and I wouldn't dream of keeping you."

She turned and beat a hasty retreat, nearly skipping away. They did have a nice day planned: a drive out to a small town in the country, have a picnic, go see a movie. "Like normal people" Bruce had called it. But right now, looking at the picture still clutched in her hand, Alice thought the day was already perfect. Every day she got to spend with Bruce, like this, was perfect.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

NCLEX day.

Alice barely slept the night before her NCLEX exam. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, alternating between reviewing facts in her head and panicking because she couldn't remember a damn thing. Bruce tried to soothe her, but it was no good. She was up at dawn, even though her test time wasn't until ten, and the testing center was so close she could walk there. She was drinking coffee and reviewing her practice book at the table in the lounge when Tony came sauntering in.

"Want me to rig it for you?" he asked, pouring himself a mug of coffee, "I know almost all the members of the nursing board in New York, I can make a few calls-"

He looked up and must have seen something on her face (which now felt like it had lost all color and sensation). He put his mug on the counter.

"Alice, honey, I'm kidding," he said, "You're gonna be great, you've got this."

"What if I don't?" she asked, ashamed of the desperate panic that was creeping up her throat as she stared down at her test book (which now looked like a foreign language), "What if I fail? What if I fail so bad they won't even let me take it again, what if I'm not cut out for any of this, what if-?"

"Not. Going. To happen." he said, walking over and plucking the book from her fingers, shutting it with a firm snap, "You've got this. And if you don't pass this time? We'll study again and you'll pass the next time. There's no time limit on this thing, your usefulness doesn't have an expiration date." He picked up her coffee mug and sniffed. "And you _definitely_ do not need your coffee black today."

He dumped her mug down the sink before she could protest and proceeded to rummage around for the chai, making the tea with a surprising competence, considering he didn't drink the stuff himself. He set a travel mug down in front of her, filled to the brim, and picked up his own mug.

"Now, repeat after me: 'I've got this.'"

Alice took a breath and let it out.

"I've got this." And actually...she _did_ feel better. She looked up at Tony, surprised. "Thanks, Tony."

He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "Comes from a lifetime of narcissism. I should be a life coach." He turned before Alice could protest this notion, tossing her a wave over his shoulder. "Break a leg, kid!"

Thor and Klara were exiting the elevator just as Tony said this, and both Asgardians looked a little confused as Tony stepped past them into the car and the door shut. They both turned to Alice.

"Break a leg?" Thor asked, "Why would Stark wish such a thing on you, Alice, today of all days?"

Alice rolled her eyes, and while she was explaining the saying, the rest of the team began to trickle in. Steve and Nat both wished her well (Nat in Russian, which sounded less like reassurance and more like a vague threat), and Bruce sat next to her while she finished the toast she hadn't thought she would eat, but that Clint had made for her anyway.

"Need something in your stomach," he had insisted, as he set the plate in front of her, "Trust me."

"You want me to walk with you?" Bruce asked as the time ticked ever closer and Alice began to get her stuff together.

She nearly declined the offer, but at the last minute, looking into his sincere brown eyes, she changed her mind.

"Yeah," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "I'd like that."

They left the Tower and started the leisurely stroll toward the testing center, Bruce with his hands in the pockets of his jacket and the wind ruffling his hair, Alice burrowing into her scarf and coat and trying not to scuff her shoes along the sidewalk. The walk didn't take as long as she would have liked.

"You're gonna be great," Bruce said, adjusting the scarf around her neck and smiling at her with such genuine confidence that Alice couldn't help but smile back, "Call me when you get out? I'll come get you, we'll celebrate."

Alice nodded, her throat dry. Her heart was racing. Bruce leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, which did not help with the heart rate situation.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Love you too," she said, smiling at him, "And thanks. For helping me."

"I'd do anything for you," he said, with such fervent conviction that Alice's heart dropped to her stomach. He smiled and chucked her under the chin. "Go on, you're gonna be late."

He stepped back and shoved his hands back in his pockets. Alice turned to face the glass doors and, with a last deep breath, she went in. Standing at the registration desk, she glanced back and saw that Bruce was still standing outside, in the cold, smiling at her. She took a deep breath and repeated one final "I've got this" before she followed the tester into the back room.

* * *

Bruce went back to Avengers Tower and waited. And waited. He tried to go down to the lab, but after running the same calculations three times and getting three different answers, he gave it up. He went looking for Tony in his workshop, but the music was up loud and after several failed attempts to get the man's attention, Bruce gave that up too. He went back to the rooms he shared with Alice and tried to read a book, but it was too quiet. Finally, he made his way up to the penthouse lounge, at a loss for what else to do. Steve was there, sitting in the sunlight with a sketch pad and a look of intense concentration. Bruce poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced over the Captain's shoulder as he walked by.

"That's good," he said, as he settled into one of the nearby chairs.

Steve looked up, startled, and Bruce cringed, thinking he might have overstepped his boundaries. But then the Cap smiled, and Bruce relaxed again.

"Thanks," he said, turning the sketch pad around and handing it over without hesitation, "I've been trying to get back into it. Used to help me pass time between shows back in the day."

Bruce took the book, grateful for anything to take his mind off the waiting, and began to flip through the sketches with increasing surprise and admiration. They were mostly sketches of the team: Clint and Nat flopped over each other at movie night, Bruce and Tony in lab coats with computer screens, Thor on these very couches with his head thrown back in laughter. There were also sketches of people he only recognized from history books or from what he'd been told: a young Peggy Carter, a man who looked so much like Tony he could only be Howard Stark, a younger man in a dark uniform with piercing eyes and a sly, humorous expression. This young man appeared again, but this time with an expression of stern hostility, his hair grown long to frame a face that had been hardened but not aged: Bucky Barnes.

"These are... _really_ good," Bruce said, lingering on one sketch in particular, Klara with her fists held before her, hair pulled back and crouched, ready to strike. There had been particular care taken with her eyes, shaded in with blue that contrasted beautifully with the pencil sketching that encased them.

"Eidetic memory," Steve said in explanation as he took the sketchbook back and flipped to the current sketch, another of Klara, but this one with a smile and a mug in clasped hands, leaning on her elbows with her hair in loose curls around her, "Like having a lifetime's worth of modeled photographs to choose from."

Bruce smiled and took a sip of his coffee. He couldn't help but notice that for a man with a lifetime's worth of memories to choose from, his most recent sketches seemed to consist more and more of one particular girl with pretty blue eyes. He tucked this thought into a corner labeled 'None Of My Business' and instead opened his mouth to say something more harmless.

The elevator dinged and he stopped. Alice stepped out, looking pale and a little lost. Bruce was on his feet and moving before the elevator door had closed behind her.

"Alice?" She turned to him with eyes that were wide and a little dazed. "Sweetheart, I told you to call me, I would have come get..."

He trailed off. She had been crying. There were tear tracks on her cheeks even as she tried to smile at him.

"Well," she sniffed, scrubbing self-consciously at her face with the back of her hand, "That sucked."

Bruce took two steps and wrapped her up, her face burying in his shoulder as she clung to him, stifling sobs.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, smoothing her hair and keeping her close, "It can't have been that bad, come on, everything's gonna be alright."

"Right!" Alice choked on a laugh and pushed away, swiping at her face. "Right, I can just try again, and again, and meanwhile I can just sit here, doing nothing while the rest of you risk your stupid lives, but it's fine! I'll just sit at home and do nothing. Hell, maybe I'll take up knitting!"

"Alice, honey, you know that's not what I-"

But the elevator door was open and Alice was shoving a confused Tony out and pressing the down button so fast that Bruce couldn't even finish his thought. The doors closed and she disappeared, leaving the three men behind in various states of stunned silence.

"I'm no expert," Steve said, from his spot on the lounge couch, "But I didn't think she'd get the results of her exam for a couple of days at least."

"She won't," Tony said, turning to Bruce with a frown, "And even those won't be official for like six weeks. What happened, man?"

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets, then took them out again to take his glasses off his head and worry them.

"She...feels useless," he said, shoving his glasses back on top of his head, "She doesn't like to take charity, Tony, and that's what we've been forcing on her. No-" He held up a finger and Tony shut his mouth. "No, you _know_ it is. Good intentions or not, we're not letting her pull her own weight. This is her chance to really contribute, to take back control of her life and...she _needs_ this. That's scary to her. To need it so much."

He shrugged and started heading for the elevator.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Steve asked as the door slid open, "Because she is a part of this team, Bruce. Whether shes sees it that way or not."

Bruce felt his lips twitch up a little as he got into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor.

"Thing is, Cap," he said, as the door slid shut, "I think that's what scares her the most."

* * *

Alice was fully aware that she was sulking. Alice was also aware that _Bruce_ knew she was sulking and was indulging her. She didn't want to talk about it. It was stupid. The whole thing was so _stupid_. Because the truth was, if she didn't pass this test, she wasn't going to stick around. It would break her heart, to leave him, but she couldn't stay here. She just...couldn't.

Bruce would be fine. He had Tony. And Klara. And the others on the team to keep him together. He'd be fine. She'd been here way too long anyway, almost three years now. That was crazy. _She_ was crazy to think that she hadn't formed attachments in that time. An attachment to Bruce was one thing, but the others? They didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve the pain she would eventually bring them.

She got up the next morning, intending to pack her things. Bruce was already gone, she remembered the featherlight kiss to her forehead as he'd gotten up and headed out to the lab. It made her chest clench. She padded over to the closet and pulled down her duffle bag, shaking it out and thinking about what she might want to take-

"Miss Ripley?"

She clenched her jaw but didn't stop, tossing the bag onto the bed and returning to paw through the clothes in her closet. When had she gotten so many?

"What is it, JARVIS?"

"Mister Stark has asked me to inquire whether you will be joining the team for breakfast this morning."

Alice rolled her eyes.

"Tell him I'm calling in sick," she said, taking down a tank top and one of the more worn hoodies and holding them up to the light.

"In that case, I've been told to inform you that your test results are in."

Every muscle in her body tensed. That was impossible. Even her unofficial results wouldn't be available for 48 hours, she'd read that in the testing materials. And Tony wouldn't know if her results were in anyway because she had to log in to...oh.

"That hacking bastard," she muttered, but she couldn't even put that much venom behind it. She was shaking too badly. Her throat had gone dry. She couldn't breathe.

"You passed, Miss Ripley," JARVIS said, "With flying colors."

The hangers rattled against the floor as they dropped from her hands. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her vision blurred. She could dimly hear JARVIS asking if she were alright and she grabbed her wrist, digging the metal of her parents' rings into her skin, trying to pull herself together before he called someone.

"I'm fine," she gasped, "I'm okay, just...give me a minute."

"Of course, Miss," JARVIS said, then after a short pause, "Shall I inform the others?"

She huffed out a laugh and the tension bled out of her with the release of air. She took a breath through her nose and straightened.

"Yeah," she said, picking the clothes up off the floor and hanging them back up in the closet, "Tell them I changed my mind. I'll be up in a little bit."

"Very good, Miss."

Alice reached down to pick up the still empty bag and held it to her chest for a moment. Then she folded it neatly and put it back on the shelf, shutting the door firmly behind her.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, I'm realizing, as I post more and more of these chapters, that much of this story feels a little bit like an exercise in indulgence on my part :) It doesn't feel as... _focused_ as my previous stories in this series. So to those of you continuing this journey with me, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to indulge in a little bit of gratuitous story-telling. I promise the rest of the fics in the series won't be this wandering :) I love you guys!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Klara supposed she should not have been surprised when the announcement came close on the heels of Alice's examination results. Almost the day after her healer's license arrived at the Tower (a week early, due to some creative negotiation on Tony Stark's part), Captain Rogers called everyone together for a strategic meeting, making it officially known that Alice and Klara would now be accompanying the team on any missions that might require their assistance.

"Up until now, we've been working independently of each other," Captain Rogers said, Maria Hill standing at his side, "That changes today. Hydra is still a very real threat, and we have no idea if or _when_ something like the Incident in New York might happen again. I don't want to leave our defenses up to chance and luck. Fate threw us together. It's up to us to make it work."

Dr. Banner looked as if he might speak, but Mr. Stark cut him off.

"Veronica will be up in the air by next Tuesday so you have literally no excuses, Banner."

"Um, I'm pretty sure I have _all_ the excuses," Dr. Banner disagreed, "My greener half doesn't exactly play well with others, and it's not like we can just ask him to cooperate."

"Why not?"

Klara was as shocked as anyone to hear her own voice utter these words. The others turned to stare at her and she clasped her hands in her lap, willing herself not to look away.

"I...believe we've developed a bit of a rapport these last few weeks. I wouldn't mind asking him in the least."

Clint Barton snorted, and Captain Rogers gave him a sharp look. Dr. Banner looked mostly puzzled.

"You wanna ask the thing that tries to kill you every week if he wants to come out and play nice with the other kids?"

"If he wanted to kill me, Dr. Banner, he would have done so by now," Klara replied, glancing around the room for any support, "I'm not saying I can garner his cooperation, or even that he will understand what I am asking. But I see no reason not to try."

"Introducing the Big Guy to others in a controlled environment is probably the best way to do it, honestly," Stark agreed, allowing Klara to sit back and release the tension between her shoulder blades, "We could file in one at a time, see how he plays with the big boys, and give Klara a chance to work with him after he's been exposed to outside stimuli. I could even work up a simulation with some thugs and put us all in a room together, see if he can tell who the good guys are and if he's willing to work with us."

"Good," Captain Rogers said, nodding in Klara's direction before he turned to the next item of business, "Clint, I want you and Alice up in the air on a regular basis, target practice."

The color drained from Alice's face at such an alarming rate that Klara feared she might faint. Captain Rogers' expression softened into a sympathy that was just a touch short of understanding.

"I know your main function is med support, Alice, but you're also our backup pilot. If there's an emergency, you should at least be familiar with the guns."

Alice set her jaw and nodded, despite her obvious discomfort. Clint Barton put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"If I might ask," Lord Thor said, sitting forward, "Why this sudden interest in our teamwork? Not that I don't appreciate the efforts, of course, and I understand the importance. But I can't help wondering if there might be some further insight into the location of the Chitauri scepter?"

Captain Rogers and Miss Hill exchanged a glance, and the captain gave her a small nod of acquiescence.

"Not the scepter exactly," she said, keying up some information on her electronic tablet and handing it over, "But we have received intelligence concerning the Treehouse."

"The who-what-now?" Mr. Stark asked, trying to get a peek over Lord Thor's shoulder. Klara couldn't blame him as she herself leaned over, hoping for a glimpse of this new information. Lord Thor agreeably angled the screen so that she could see and, consequently, Stark could not.

"The Treehouse," Miss Hill repeated, "It's a SHIELD base located in the jungles of the Misiones province, Argentina. It was lost in the Hydra takeover and we haven't been able to recover it, due to the...nature of the compound."

"Survivalist training," Captain Rogers clarified, as Lord Thor finished his perusal of the information and handed the tablet to Mr. Stark to examine, "Truly remote, accessible only by air. You either survive out there, or you don't."

"Talk about getting thrown into the deep end," Stark muttered, paging through the report, "But I'm guessing we found a way in?"

"We have reason to believe the complex is due a supply shipment in the next few weeks," Miss Hill said, "We're waiting to hear back on our intel, but if we successfully disable and take over the supply run, there's a chance we'll be able to infiltrate the compound using the airdrop, piggybacking the quinjet in on stealth mode with the rest of the team."

"But we need to be able to coordinate," Captain Rogers emphasized, "And for that we need practice. This is one of the last remaining vestiges of Project Insight, it'd be nice to get it squared away."

"And it looks like there's chatter of possible intel into where the other Hydra thugs are holed up," Stark said, his eyes flying over the report, "Could lead us to a last big push."

"And information on the location of Loki's scepter," Lord Thor said, looking pensive, "After all this time."

Klara's eyes dropped down to her clasped hands. The chain at her neck tugged, but she resisted the urge to touch it, taking a long, deep breath instead. When she looked up again Alice was watching her with a little furrow in her brow. She gave her a tentative smile when their eyes met, and Klara returned it in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

"Team training starts tomorrow at 0800," Captain Rogers said, "We'll take it to the Dungeon. Klara, you'll start off with the Hulk, make some re-introductions."

Klara met his eyes and nodded.

"Of course."

She caught the flash of a smile at the corners of his lips, but he turned away far too quickly for it to materialize fully. So why did she feel as if it had lingered somewhere on her skin? She brushed the feeling away under the pretense of pushing a lock of hair behind her ear and something whispered in the back of her mind.

 _Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_

 _And often is his gold complexion dimmed,_

 _And every fair from fair sometime declines,_

 _By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed._

She caught Clint Barton's steady gaze on her from across the room and pushed Loki's voice from her thoughts.

* * *

Alice woke up the next morning with the beginnings of jitters in her stomach, but she tried to keep it from Bruce. He would ask too many questions that she wasn't quite prepared to evade. He glanced at her once over breakfast when she knocked over her coffee and swore violently, but he didn't say anything until they were in the elevator headed down to the Dungeon.

"You're gonna be great, you know."

Alice froze up. How did he know? Had she said something, given it away somehow? She didn't think so, surely not, he would've been through the roof by now if he actually thought-

"Clint'll have your back," Bruce went on, oblivious to the flurry of her panicked thoughts, "I know you don't like guns, Alice, and I get why, but it's good to know how they work if you're gonna be behind the controls."

The tension bled out of her in a rush. The guns. He was talking about the guns on the quinjet, about her assigned target practice with Clint. She had almost forgotten about that actually, and she swallowed down the knot of anxiety the thought gave her and forced a smile.

"Right," she said, and cringed at her poor word choice, "I mean, yeah, I know. I get it. It's fine. I'm fine."

Bruce smiled and leaned in to drop a kiss to her temple. She pushed away the tiny prick of guilt in her gut. She was doing the right thing. She _knew_ she was.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Everyone else was already waiting, and Alice felt Bruce tense at her side. She took his hand and squeezed as they stepped out together, but he didn't relax.

"Alright, good," Steve said, turning to the rest of the team, "Klara, once Bruce changes, I want you to go in and talk to the Hulk, get him as calm as you think we can reasonably expect. You're a better judge of that than the rest of us, but Tony's gonna keep an eye on the readouts from here for a second set of eyes."

He nodded to Tony, who didn't even look up, typing a rapid-fire series of commands that brought all the equipment online. Bruce slipped out of Alice's grip to begin the process of stripping away his loose outer clothes, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek not to say anything inappropriate. Humor was turning into her coping mechanism of choice. She was spending way too much time with Tony.

"When you're ready," Steve said, still speaking to Klara, "Raise a hand to signal. I'll be first today, I want to see what we're dealing with. If that seems to go well, we may bring in one of the others, but I wanna start slow. We don't want to overwhelm him."

Klara nodded. Alice clenched a fist and held her tongue. She couldn't say anything, not while Bruce was still within earshot. As he was stepping into the bright white room, he turned to lift a hand to her with a wan smile. Alice felt another prick of guilt and barely managed to return the wave before Thor pushed the thick steel door shut, sealing it off with a flick of his wrist. She waited for Bruce to get settled, his eyes shut and hands folded, brow furrowed in concentration. Then she made sure the speakers were flipped off and turned to Steve.

"I wanna go in."

Steve raised an eyebrow at her.

"And you couldn't say that before, because...?"

"You know damn well why," she snapped, but then took a breath and tried to rein it back in. It was just nerves. It wasn't his fault.

"Captain Rogers," she tried again, trying her best to sound as reasonable as she felt, "The man in that room is, quite possibly, the love of my life. And I acknowledge that, in some circumstances, my judgment might be clouded concerning his well-being and my own. However, beyond our personal relationship, we are supposed to be working together, as a part of a team. And that team is going to include a _very_ large part of Bruce that I've never even met. I think it only makes sense that I am, if not the first, then at least the second person in that room, if only because he knows me. If Bruce and the Hulk are in any way linked, then some part of him, however small, _must_ know me. Even if I don't know him yet."

Steve watched her carefully while she spoke, a little furrow in his brow that Alice couldn't read at all. When she'd finished, he quirked his head to the side.

"Have you told him this?"

Alice felt a flare of indignant fury and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I've _tried_ ," she bit out, "But he's completely unreasonable about anything having to do with the Other Guy. And I _know_ that if I can get in there, just _once_ , I can prove that there's nothing for him to be scared of. Tony, back me up."

Tony's eyes remained stubbornly fixed to one of the computer readouts, but Alice glared daggers into his back until he finally gave in with a sigh.

"She's right," he said, turning around and leaning back against the bank of computers, crossing his arms, "Bruce Banner is one of the most brilliant men I have ever had the pleasure to work with, but I've been watching these two dance around this issue for years and, quite frankly, he's an idiot. He's ruled not just by fear, but by guilt and self-loathing. He will never willingly consent to have Alice in the same room as the Hulk. He doesn't even like that they're in the same building."

Steve sighed, but he was already shaking his head. Alice could feel what little control she still had over her temper slipping away.

"Alice, it's not that I don't agree with you," he said, "We all need to learn to work together. I just don't think the best thing for this team, or your relationship, is to start sneaking around behind each other's backs."

"Look, I don't like the idea of going behind his back any more than you do-"

" _No_ , Alice," Steve said, with a stern finality that made Alice want to deck him, "I'm sorry, but not this time. Not like this."

And with that Steve turned his back on her and walked over to Klara, who was being fitted with her panic button. Alice felt both of her hands clench into fists, her face burning. She felt like a kid who's been told they can't have another piece of candy. Summarily dismissed. She took a step and opened her mouth, not even sure what she might say, but knowing it was going to be very angry.

Someone grabbed her elbow, holding her in place. She glared up at Clint, who was giving her a hard look and shaking his head, pulling her back toward Tony and his bank of computers. She jerked her arm out of his hand, but she kept her mouth shut. He was right, it wasn't going to do any good to argue. Tony glanced at her but didn't say anything, adjusting a knob on one of the panels. Alice crossed her arms and sulked as the door opened and Klara stepped into the Dungeon.

* * *

Klara wasn't surprised in the least that the Hulk was a little more uneasy than usual. He actually roared at her when she entered the room, something he had not done in several weeks. But he did not charge at least. Instead, he fell back and regarded her with a distrustful expression.

"Hello, my friend," she said, keeping her voice steady and soothing, "I suppose you already know that today is special."

He snorted and shuffled, but did not approach.

"There are those who would very much like to speak to you, my dear."

He made a distressed sound that was not quite a growl and narrowed his eyes.

"No, no," she said, stepping forward and crouching to touch the floor, a gesture they had established as a peaceful stance, "You know them. In the past, you fought by their sides, in defense of Midgard. Do you remember?"

He furrowed his brow and snorted again. He was settling, not quite so tensed at the shoulders. Klara smiled.

"They would like to ask you to fight beside them once more. To bring balance to their world. I believe you can help them, my friend. Will you prove me right? Will you allow them entry?"

His large, dark eyes searched her face for several moments. Then he jerked his chin toward the door and Klara smiled, rising to her feet and lifting a hand toward the side of the room that contained the disguised window. There was a long pause, and then the hiss of the pneumatic seal. She heard the cautious approach of footsteps, but she did not turn to meet them, her eyes fixed on the wary expression of the Hulk.

"Good work," Captain Rogers murmured and Klara felt a glow light the center of her chest. She stamped it down viciously and clasped her hands behind her to give her more stability.

"It is his doing, Captain. Hulk does nothing that he does not wish to do."

At this, the Hulk snorted and made a sort of lunge at them. Captain Rogers gave a backward jerk, but Klara only smirked and stood firm. Hulk retreated again but returned her smirk.

"None of that, dear," Klara said, in mock severity, "Captain Rogers has only just arrived. Allow him at least a word before you dismiss him."

Hulk huffed and turned his attention back to the captain, who moved forward cautiously and crouched down as Klara had done before. She was impressed at his intuitive understanding of the gesture. Demurely, she stepped to the side, giving them the semblance of privacy while still remaining within easy reach should she need to step between them.

"Do you know me?" Captain Rogers asked, his voice calm and steady.

Hulk let out a rumbling growl, but he lowered himself into a mirroring crouch, pressing one large hand to the floor and meeting the captain's eyes intently.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

Hulk grinned, made a fist, and slammed it into the floor so hard the walls shook. Captain Rogers didn't flinch this time. In fact, he was smiling.

"That's right," he said, "Smash. Will you work with us?"

Hulk rose to his feet, slammed his fist to his chest and roared, a deafening sound that made Klara wince. Captain Rogers rose to his feet too, still smiling.

"Good," he said, "We'll need-"

The seal on the door hissed again and they both turned to look.

Alice was standing in the doorway, her dark eyes fixed on the Hulk. The door shut with a firm thump behind her and Klara felt Captain Rogers stiffen. She put a hand on his arm.

"Wait," she whispered, "What's done is done now. Wait."

He tightened his jaw, but he did not speak as Alice took a tentative step into the room. She moved forward with the slow reverence of one who finally has the culmination of a great quest within sight. She passed within an arm's length of Captain Rogers without even an acknowledgment, and Klara tightened her grip on his arm. He hadn't relaxed in the slightest.

The girl crouched before the Hulk, pressing her hand to the floor as if she might draw strength from it. He, on the other hand, was unnaturally still, no shuffling, no shaking of his head. Klara was not even certain he was breathing. His large eyes had not left Alice for even a moment since she had appeared.

"Hey, Big Guy," Alice said, her voice low and shaking slightly, "You know who I am?"

There was a long pause. And then he very slowly crouched down again, but instead of pressing his hand to the floor, he pressed it flat against his chest...over his heart. His eyes never wavered from Alice's face. The girl smiled.

"That's right," she said, sounding relieved, "That's right, buddy. It's so good to finally meet you."

A rumble came from the Hulk's chest and he lowered his hand to the floor, staring at Alice curiously like a child might look upon an adult they have admired from afar. He leaned forward, as if to get a better look...then snorted violently and shook his head, jerking back and making all of them jump. Alice tumbled backward and tried to scramble upright. Hulk roared and swung wildly, clutching his head and looking for all the world as if something were hurting him. Captain Rogers moved more quickly than Klara might have thought possible, hauling Alice to her feet and trying to drag her back toward the door, but the girl resisted.

"No, wait, it's okay!" Alice shouted, pulling uselessly against the captain's grip, "It's okay, it's-Bruce, _stop fighting him!_ "

Klara had been moving in, intending to soothe Hulk if she could, to change him if she could not, but at the mention of Dr. Banner's name, he whirled and roared, sending Klara back a few steps to avoid his swinging fists. He slammed one into the wall behind him and then slammed his shoulder in as well, pushing against the wall, as if an inward force were working to restrain him. And Klara saw the truth of Alice's words. Dr. Banner was in there, fighting for control, and it was doing nothing but enraging his other half.

"Dr. Banner," Klara snapped, perhaps more harshly than she had intended, "I'm going to ask that you release my friend now before you do damage to yourselves."

The thing that was not quite the doctor, not quite the Hulk turned a glare on her and roared his frustration and rage. Klara clasped her hands behind her and narrowed her gaze.

"Alice is safe," she said, in as confident a tone as she could muster. She had not actually heard the door to the room open, but she was certain Captain Rogers would have gotten the girl to safety by now. "And you are making things worse. Allow me to fulfill my duty, to you and to him, and this will all be over in a moment."

He snorted and narrowed his eyes at her. But then he slowly relaxed his grip upon the wall and dropped down, down to the crouch of peace and he was Hulk again, in truth. Klara dropped down with him, only an arm's length from touching.

"I'm sorry, my friend," she said to him, "We will try again another day."

She held out her hand to him and he flinched back from her.

"Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all,

Wherein I should your great deserts repay,"

He let out a sharp breath and examined her hand. Klara turned so he could see it from all angles, while she continued her recitation.

"Forgot upon your dearest love to call,

Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;"

He furrowed his brow, then slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his hand down to meet hers. Klara smiled and ran her fingers along the length of his hand, down his forearm, across his palm, ending with just the tips of her fingers on the tips of his own. The magic fled, retreating up his arm and across his body with a shudder. He groaned and dropped to his hands and knees, rocking through slight movements as one who wishes to stretch a sore muscle, until finally, Dr. Banner sat up, peering at Klara with the look of a man defeated by betrayal.

"Where is she?"

Klara got to her feet and reached for his hand

"Come. We will find out together."

He gave her hand a skeptical look, but he eventually allowed her to help him to his feet. Klara felt the last remnants of magic flee at her touch and he shook his head as if clearing away a stray thought. The gesture reminded her very much of Hulk, but she did not dare say so.

Dr. Banner had been steadily strengthening with continued practice of his change (though it still consumed much of his energy), so he was able to walk from the Dungeon under his own power. Klara stayed nearby, but he seemed wholly focused on his objective, namely to reach the door, which opened at his touch to the sounds of shouting.

* * *

"You had no business being in there!"

"You had no business keeping me out!"

Steve sighed and rubbed his face in frustration, but Alice felt no sympathy for him. He had no _idea_ what it was like, living with a man who refused to give you access to such a huge part of himself. He had no _clue_ -

"Alice, it's not even that you put yourself in danger, which should be enough," he said, "It's not even that you went behind the back of a member of this team, which is worse. The real problem is that I gave you a direct order and you _deliberately_ disobeyed me."

"I am _not_ one of your soldiers, _Captain_."

" _Yes, you are_!" Steve shouted, and Alice had to take a step back from the force of it, "And if you want to be a part of this team, I need to _know,_ without any doubt, that you are going to obey an order if I give it to you. Otherwise, you could get us all killed!"

"If you had just listened-!"

Alice felt her breath escape her as if someone had punched her in the gut as the door to the Dungeon swung open, and Bruce was standing there, one hand supporting him against the door frame. Her heart sank down to her toes.

"Come on, Bruce," she said as if continuing an argument they hadn't even started yet, "You know you would have never let me in otherwise. Things would have been fine if you just..."

Bruce shut his eyes and Alice trailed off. With what looked like a tremendous amount of effort, he pushed away from the door frame and started walking. Alice thought he might walk right by her without saying a word. She was prepared for it, braced for that pain. But instead, he took both her hands in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

Then he turned, gathered his discarded clothes, and got into the elevator, letting the doors slip shut behind him. Alice hadn't thought she could feel any worse. This was worse. This was so much worse.

* * *

 **A/N** : I'm still not sure how I feel about this chapter. It was important to me, and to the story later on, but I'm not sure I executed it in the best way :) Let me know what you guys think. Next week is one of my _favorite_ chapters in the whole story, so that's something to look forward to! See you then!


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Bruce wouldn't talk about it. In fact, he was pretending like it hadn't happened, which was... _very_ unlike him. Not that Alice had much opportunity to bring it up, really. Despite heightened tensions, Steve made sure that team training went on as scheduled, which meant every other day Bruce was playing Hulk with the team, with his off-days spent sleeping to recuperate. Any free time he was able to scrounge up, he spent in the lab evaluating the results of his training sessions or working on the programming for Veronica, which seemed to be in constant flux.

Alice didn't exactly have a ton of free time herself. Since Tony was required to participate in group training, Alice was left in charge of the monitoring equipment on the outside. When she wasn't supervising that, she and Clint were in the quinjet, practicing maneuvers and getting her used to the guns somewhere in the wilderness of Maine. It was exhausting, especially when the gunfire would echo in her dreams and she woke up screaming. Bruce would try to comfort her on those nights, but that only served to remind her of the crack between them that it seemed might never get resolved. In an effort to avoid the dreams and the inevitable guilt that came after, she started spending most of her evenings in the workshop with Tony, helping with his newest project (something he was calling the "Iron Legion") in whatever little ways she could, which mostly consisted of holding various tools and pushing buttons when told. He never questioned her presence and accepted her help without comment or complaint.

"Did we do the wrong thing?" she asked one night, holding a huge wrench in both hands and waiting for Tony to emerge from beneath his newest prototype.

"Nope," Tony said, his voice echoing through the metal frame he was working under, "You were right. He'd never have let you in that room if you'd asked him. And he needs to get over this hang up he has with other people." He emerged from beneath the metal skeleton and lifted his goggles, pointing with a heavily gloved hand. "Especially you. If there's one thing I know, you are the best thing that has ever happened to Bruce Banner. And if our calculations are correct, the Hulk knows that what's good for Banner is good for him. He wouldn't hurt you if left to his own devices and unprovoked. Now we know that for sure."

"But if we'd been wrong-"

Tony was already shaking his head, making grabby fingers for the wrench. She handed it over.

"No matter how many simulations you run, eventually you have to take your theories into the field and run an actual test," he said, sliding back under the metal body, "There's never any guarantees. You take the proper precautions and you hope for the best. Bruce knows that as well as anyone. He just doesn't like the idea of his two lives overlapping. He tries to separate them out like they aren't connected in practically every way. He'll come around, Alice," he said, glancing up from the coupling he was tightening, "And in the meantime, know that I would _never_ have let you into the Dungeon if I hadn't believed that you would be safe. Now, hand me that tube of grease and let's see if we can't get this one to dance."

Two weeks later, Maria Hill finally announced that it was time to take their show on the road. The plan was simple: take over the supply plane, follow the on-board coordinates to the location of the Treehouse, and drop in from the air, taking Hydra by surprise. Steve gave Alice an incredibly stern look when he outlined her part of the plan (which basically consisted of flying the quinjet in circles until the job was done), and Alice tried her best to look as compliant as possible. He had been reluctant to allow her to come at all, but Clint had personally vouched for her, which gave Alice even more reason to play the good little soldier. Clint would never let her live it down otherwise.

Things started out well enough. Clint and Nat took out the pilot, co-pilot and two guards with no trouble at all, and Alice dropped the quinjet into place a little behind their tail, staying in the shadow of the larger aircraft.

"Five minutes to drop coordinates," Clint said through the earpiece Alice wore, "So far no indication that we've been detected. Codes have been exchanged, and we've been cleared for landing."

"Good," Steve said, hooking his helmet into place and adjusting his gloves, "Doctor, this looks to be an easy run. Stay in until we call, no need to get messy if we don't have to."

"Roger that," Bruce said, in an almost mocking tone that made Alice smirk despite herself.

"Alice, once you drop us, give us eyes from the air, keep us apprised of anything that looks suspicious."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she said before she could stop herself. Steve gave her a sharp look and she winced. "Sorry, nerves. I'm good."

There was a flicker of understanding across his stern features and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

"You're gonna be fine," he assured her, "Just stay in the air and keep your eyes peeled. We'll take care of the rest."

"Preparing for contact," Clint said, "Alice, you copy?"

"I'm here," Alice responded, "Ready when you are, sensei."

"Alright, break off in three...two...one... Break!"

Alice made a sharp left, skirting the tops of the thick trees below. She could see beneath the leafy canopy a scurry of figures scuttling into positions.

"Better make your jump, Captain," she said, reaching up to unlock the back loading ramp, "I don't think your surprise is gonna be much of a surprise for long."

"Alright, let's move!"

Alice jerked down the lever to open the ramp and eased back on the throttle, bringing the quinjet into a hover above an area that she could now see was crawling with uniformed minions scattering to the outskirts and heading into the trees. She heard the distinct sound of Tony's repulsors firing up and he let out a whoop.

"JARVIS, let's make an entrance!"

Guns 'N' Roses' "Welcome To The Jungle" suddenly blasted in Alice's ear.

"What _is_ that?" she heard Klara say from the back, and not in a good way.

"Tony being Tony," Alice said, rolling her eyes as she reached up to shut the back ramp and lift the quinjet out of hover, banking to take a leisurely spin around the outer edges of the Treehouse complex. From the air, it was difficult to see where the jungle ended and the complex began, but she had a pretty good layout from Maria keyed up in her nav system.

"Should we be flying so low?" Alice almost jumped out of her skin when Bruce spoke up from behind her left shoulder, leaning over the back of her chair and watching through the windows as Tony flitted through the trees, his repulsors lighting up the complex below. "What if they have ground to air?"

"Steve said to get the lay of the land, we're getting the lay of the land," she said, trying not to sound irritated. After all, she didn't tell him how to do _his_ job-

A flash caught her eye off to the right.

"Shit," she spat and pulled hard to the left, spinning them out of the way of the oncoming missile. She jammed at the button for anti-missile defenses, and a small flare deployed, colliding with the missile in an explosion that rocked the quinjet.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate it when you're right?" she asked, as she corrected the jet's lean and shot them up into the air, trying to escape the missiles' range.

"Maybe once or twice," Bruce said, turning a small smile down on her. Alice felt her heart jump and for a minute she wished she wasn't so pissed at him.

"You guys okay up there?" Clint's voice echoed out of the earpiece, along with a cacophony of battle noise.

"Good as gold, Bird-boy," Alice said, "How's the fight on the ground?"

"Not gonna lie, there's a few more monkeys down here than we thought there'd be," he said, followed by an explosion and a heart-stopping moment of static, "Surprisingly well-armed monkeys. With lasers."

"Really hard for me to tell if you're joking right now," Alice said, banking hard and going into a dive that sent Bruce lurching for a better grip on her seat as another missile was detonated by the quinjet's defense system.

"Believe me, I wish I was."

"Banner, got your ears on?" That was Steve coming through the comm this time, and Bruce put a hand to his ear, adjusting his ear-piece.

"I'm here, Captain."

"I think we need to call Code Green. We could definitely use a few more hands down here."

Bruce hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but it was long enough to make Alice glance back. He had gone pale, but he was already nodding.

"Copy that."

He turned away, already lifting his loose-fitting shirt over his head. Alice wanted to turn around and say something, but just then another ground-to-air missile launched and she had to maneuver the jet away from the line of fire. By then the ramp was already lowering, she could hear the wind howling.

"Give me a second, I'll get you a clear landing," she said, moving the quinjet into position over the middle of the complex. There were flames off to the left and she could see blue lights lancing out through the branches to their right. "Your eight o'clock."

"I see it."

His voice was surprisingly calm in her ear. And there were suddenly a thousand things Alice needed to tell him, a thousand things she wanted to say, but she couldn't get them from her brain to her mouth.

"Good luck, Doctor Banner," Klara said, her voice clear and genuine through the ear-piece.

If he replied, Alice didn't hear him. And then there was a howl in her ear and the comm went to static for a second before the sounds of battle switched back on. Alice forced her hands to move, to raise the back ramp closed again.

"Code Green is away," she said, her voice sounding distant and grim in her own ears, "Northbound, incoming."

"Got him," Steve acknowledged, "Good work, Alice."

Alice heard a crash and an ear-splitting roar in the background. She winced and angled the quinjet away again, trying again to move clear of the ground-to-air.

"He'll be alright," Klara said, appearing at her shoulder, "He is well suited to this environment. And we've been training for this."

Alice nodded, but then had to swerve and dive to avoid two more missiles that seemed to show up out of nowhere. They were coming faster now, one right after the other, and Alice had to really concentrate to keep the jet out of harm's way. She thought for a moment about pulling out, but she hadn't been given any orders to that effect, and if the team needed her for whatever reason, she wanted to be within easy reach. Besides, she figured any distraction she could provide couldn't hurt their chances.

A missile exploded just off the right wing and Alice banked...only to be blinded by a second missile exploding on her left.

"Damn it!" she yelped, jerking the controls up and Klara gasped, scrambling for a handhold to keep upright.

"You alright?" Clint asked.

"I'd be better if someone would take care of those damn missiles," she growled.

"I got you, Baby Bird!" Tony said cheerily over the comm, repulsors screaming to life in the background.

"Oh no, that is _not_ my code name," Alice said, swerving between two incoming missiles and letting them take care of each other.

"Aw, come on, it's cute!"

"Exactly."

" _You're_ cute!"

"Any time with those missiles, Tony..."

"You really need to work on embracing your cuteness, Baby Bird."

"Tony, I swear to _god-_ "

There was a loud, fiery explosion below her, and a shower of blue sparks shot out of the trees to her left, followed by a billow of white smoke.

"Hey Cap, look!" Tony exclaimed, "Red, white, and blue!"

"Do you ever shut up?" Steve said, sounding exhausted and exasperated.

"Not if I can help it."

"Alright, how's everybody looking?"

There was a chorus of check-ins from the rest of the team, either clear or mostly clear.

"Klara, sounds like we need a lullaby," Steve said, "Alice, landings are gonna be a little dicey, think you can handle it?"

"I got it," Alice said, maneuvering the quinjet in toward the trees. She heard the back ramp open and she glanced behind her. "Dude, what are you doing?"

"Don't worry," Klara said, holding on to the support strut as she leaned out of the quinjet in a _very_ worrying way.

"Well, wait a few minutes and I'll get you down, you can go do your thing-"

"No," Klara insisted, the wind blowing her curls back and tugging at the spare shirt she held in her free hand, "No, this will do well. Hold steady."

And then, with absolutely no warning whatsoever, she jumped straight off the ramp into oblivion.

"Son of a bitch!" Alice exclaimed, slamming the jet into hover and pressing the comm in her ear, "Thor, Tony, anybody with ears, I do not have eyes on Klara, repeat, no eyes!"

"What happened?" Thor's rumbling voice came through the comm, the wind whistling through the static.

"She just jumped!" Alice exclaimed, "I don't know what the _hell_ she was thinking, but-"

"I'm alright." Klara's calm voice through the earpiece made Alice want to laugh and scream and cry all at the same time, but she swallowed it back. "I landed safely. Making contact now."

Alice shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples. She had a headache.

"Goddamn Asgardians," she muttered, as she shut the back ramp and started looking for a safe place to land.

* * *

Klara heard Alice's muttering as clearly as if she were still on the quinjet and smiled to herself. The fall had not been that great a distance, but it must have looked far worse to a Midgardian. She crouched on an elevated platform wedged among the tall trees and observed the terrain for a moment. Below her was the sun-dappled wreckage of what had once been a sprawling labyrinth of buildings and equipment, unrecognizable now and still showering blue sparks at random intervals. In the midst of this destruction stood the Hulk, towering in rage and slamming two pieces of machinery together as if they had personally offended him.

Klara took her time navigating the interconnected walkways and swinging paths down to the forest floor. There were screeching noises in the treetops and Hulk roared up at them in frustration as Klara finally placed her feet on solid ground.

"Hello, my friend."

He turned and snarled at her, taking two running steps before he stopped, snorting and swaying, as if unsure of himself. Klara held her ground and imagined the walls of the Dungeon around them. It was easy in the closeness of the trees.

"You've done so very well," she said, keeping her voice calm, soothing, level, "The world is a safer place for what you have accomplished today."

Hulk snorted and backed down a step, eying her with his old suspicion. Klara lowered herself to their familiar crouch, pressing her hand to the soft, warm earth and inhaling deeply of the thick green scent that emanated from the forest floor.

"When I do count the clock that tells the time,

And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;

When I behold the violet past prime,

And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;"

Hulk snorted once, as if in defiance, but then he hunched down, mirroring her posture just out of arm's reach. Klara smiled and looked up into the green swaying canopy above them.

"When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,

Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard."

She looked back to her friend, his eyes less hostile, his bearing more relaxed. She held out her hand, palm up.

"Then of thy beauty do I question make,

That thou among the wastes of time must go,

Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake

And die as fast as they see others grow;"

There was a long pause. Then slowly, Hulk reached out and pressed his hand to the flat of her palm. Klara smiled and traced his fingers, up and over and down his arm to his fingertips again, feeling the magic ripple and flee from her touch.

"And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence," she whispered as he groaned and fell, "Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence."

She stood and shook out the shirt she had taken from the quinjet, waiting for Dr. Banner to gather himself. When he sat up, shivering, she handed the shirt over, and he took it gratefully, pulling it over his damp body.

"We are all clear," Klara said, trying to emulate some of the rapid-fire speech she had heard during the fight, "Dr. Banner is present and accounted for."

"Good work, Klara," Captain Rogers' voice echoed through the earpiece, "We're en route. Stay there, and we'll come get you."

Klara acknowledged this and knelt in the dirt by Dr. Banner, waiting for their friends to arrive.

* * *

Alice didn't see anything except Bruce when she finally put down on the jungle floor and opened the back ramp. She ran to him and slid beneath his left arm, his other side supported by Thor. He was slumped and looking far more exhausted than he had after any of their recent training sessions.

"You okay?" she asked as hovering nearby as Thor lowered him into one of the flight seats, "What do you need, what can I do?"

"I'm...I'm okay," he said, even as he sagged a little in the seat and tried to right himself, "I'm okay."

"You sure?" Alice asked, perching on the seat beside him, her hands fluttering over his back and shoulders as he lowered his head into his hands, "I can get you something, I can-"

"Alice."

He lifted his head, took her face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. He sighed, his eyes closed and Alice cradled his neck in her hands, supporting him as much as she was able, just breathing, breathing...

"I'm okay," he whispered, and this time he sounded more like he meant it. Alice nodded.

"Okay," she said, pulling back and pushing him back into the seat, "Okay, just..." She paused, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I love you," she whispered, trying not to sound teary, "I _really_ love you."

He smiled and pulled her down to press an exhausted kiss on her lips.

"Love you too," he whispered, then let his head fall back and curled his legs up into the flight seat, his eyes closing.

It was only after this that Alice looked around and took stock. Tony was already out of his suit, fiddling with one of the panels on the left abdominal that looked like it had gone one-on-one with Han Solo and lost. Thor looked exhilarated, but there were definitely scorch marks on his armor. Clint and Nat both looked sweaty, dirty, and exhausted, but relatively unscathed.

And then there was Steve.

"Let me see that," Alice said, pointing at the captain's torn and bloodied left sleeve before she turned to rummage under the seats for her medical kit.

"It's not that bad," he insisted, glancing down at the gash as if he'd forgotten it was there, "Really, it looks worse than it is."

"What am I here for, if not for this?" Alice asked, "Target practice? Decoy? Come on, Cap, let me at least _pretend_ like you need me for a minute."

Steve rolled his eyes but started to peel off his uniform top. He winced, and suddenly Klara appeared at his side.

"Allow me," she said, gently taking the sleeve and easing the bloodied and bruised arm out of it.

"Thanks," Steve said, managing a smile for her, "You did good work today, by the way."

"Yeah, except for the part where she nearly gave me a _heart attack_ ," Alice quipped, narrowing her eyes at the girl over the lid of her med kit, "We really need to work on our communication."

Klara ducked her head, looking sheepish.

"The height was not so great," she said, "But I apologize if I caused you any undue concern."

Alice rolled her eyes and started the process of cleaning Steve's wound. His entire shoulder was one big mottled bruise. The gash itself was a burn mark, only skin deep, but red and swollen on the edges and Alice caught herself muttering, "...not that bad, my _ass_..." Steve just gave her a watery grin. Despite his initial protests, he was a surprisingly good patient, still and uncomplaining. Even when she poured antiseptic on the wound, he shut his eyes tight but never flinched.

"So," he said, once he caught his breath again, and Alice had started the process of bandaging him up, "The monkeys. We can't just leave them to terrorize the local wildlife."

"Wait, were the laser monkeys an _actual_ thing?" Alice asked, glancing back at Clint who was typing something into the quinjet controls, "I really wasn't sure if you were joking or not."

"Oh yeah, they were real," Clint said, "I think one of them singed off one of my eyebrows."

"It's an improvement," Nat said, deadpan, "Makes you look quizzical and intrigued, instead of just like an asshole."

"Aw, but asshole is my signature look!" Clint pouted.

"Guys," Steve said, sounding like an exhausted father on the never-ending road trip from hell, "What are we gonna do about the monkeys?"

"Already taken care of," Tony said from his spot on the floor, fiddling with a screwdriver on another partially warped panel of his suit.

Steve raised an eyebrow in his direction. "And how did you do that?"

Tony shrugged. "I know a guy."

"You know a guy who works in laser monkeys?"

"I know a guy who works in biological research rescue," Tony corrected, wiping his hands on a rag and tossing it over his shoulder as he finally got up to address the group, "I throw him a fundraiser every year, he deals in all sorts of weird science experiments gone wrong, real bleeding heart. I gave him a call, he's sending a team. They should be here in a few hours to help us round 'em all up. Trust me, they will live very comfortably for the rest of their little monkey lives."

"That is wonderful!" Thor said, pounding Tony so enthusiastically on the back that it almost knocked him over, "What a surprise you are, Stark!"

"I agree, Tony, that's... _surprisingly_ thoughtful of you," Alice said, taping up the last bit of bandage on Steve's arm.

Tony rolled his eyes. "You people act like I'm some kind of monster! Why do you think I throw all those charity galas?"

"Tax write-off," Alice said, while at the same time Steve said "Fancy suits," Clint said, "Beautiful women" and Nat said, "Booze."

Tony glared at them. "You're all assholes."

"I thought I was cute!" Alice said, tossing him smirk.

"You're a cute asshole," Tony countered, turning and flopping back down in front of his suit, "And I'm programming Baby Bird into the database the _second_ we get back to the Tower."

Alice rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help ruffling his hair as she walked past, and she caught him grinning even as he swatted her away. She shook her head. Tony Stark was nothing if not full of surprises.

* * *

 **A/N:** I love this chapter so much, for so many reasons, and I really hope you all did too :) See you next week!


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Oh my gosh, we're finally here! :D Sorry I'm late posting today, it's been a weird week, but we've finally made it to this auspicious moment. I hope you enjoy!

 **Chapter Nineteen**

When Mr. Stark's animal rescue team arrived, Klara put herself to work with the everyone else, gathering the enhanced primates together for transport. It turned out to not be much of a challenge once Mr. Stark managed to decrypt the data he had salvaged from the complex computers. The agents experimenting on the poor creatures had trained them to come when summoned by a certain ear-piercing sound that could be played over the speaker system. Once that was discovered, it was a relatively simple matter to gather the creatures together and deactivate the laser-equipped portions of their anatomy (limbs and tails).

That wasn't the only useful information recovered from the Treehouse mission. The computers were full of intelligence concerning the movements and whereabouts of certain factions within Hydra, including plans to move the stages of tech-enhancement from primates to human test subjects. This had apparently already been tested in an isolated case many years earlier: a project coded with the moniker "Deathlok", which in turn had been built on the bones of another, even earlier, project titled merely "Soldat". But the monkeys had been the first stage in a plan to mass produce the augmentation, using advanced Chitauri technology.

Klara didn't understand most of the details, but she was able to grasp enough to be as horrified by the prospect as everyone else.

"It isn't a painless process," Captain Rogers confided in her one evening, under the dim lights of the gymnasium, "I mean, what I went through, the Super-Soldier program, it was highly regulated, meant to produce the best results with the least amount of trauma. And let me tell you, it hurt. It hurt like _hell_. I just..." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I know its Hydra. But I can't imagine what...those people must have gone through."

It took a few days more for Tony Stark to decrypt all the data, another few days to organize it, and it still didn't make a great deal of sense when it was done. There was a bit of outdated information regarding the fall of SHIELD which Captain Rogers took to investigate on his own, and a few small bases to be dispatched, only one of which required an assembling of the entire team. Nothing on the current location of the Chitauri scepter, though the research being done at the Treehouse clearly referenced the scepter on several occasions as a source material.

"How is it possible that such a powerful relic could remain hidden for so long?" Lord Thor grumbled in undertones to Klara after the completion of their mission in Sudan, "I had thought it would have revealed itself before now."

"I imagine anything with your brother's mark upon it would be wily," Klara said, allowing a small smile to touch her lips, "Have patience, my lord. We will find it."

Despite her own advice, Klara found that she herself was becoming more and more anxious as evidence of the scepter continued to stack up, with no sign of the actual item in question. Perhaps it was no longer on Midgard? But that did not seem likely. Midgardians were still relatively sheltered from the wider universe; travel between realms was nearly unheard of. Unless someone had come to claim it...whoever had given the scepter to Loki in the first place...

 _Monsters in the shadows...feeding on the dark void...on the screams of the lost..._

"Hey."

Klara jerked and nearly dropped her mug of tea on the balcony floor. Clint Barton had his head through the door and was scowling at her as if this were the last place in the universe he wished to be.

"Maria's got new intel."

And just like that, he was gone again. Klara hurried in after him, but he had already gotten into an elevator, the doors sliding shut behind him. Klara poured her tea down the drain and rinsed her mug before she got in her own elevator and punched the call button.

"Yes, Mistress Klara, how can I be of help?" intoned the ever-polite voice of Tony's assistant AI.

"JARVIS, where are the other members of our team located currently?"

"Conference Room B on Level 48," he responded, "Would you like me to inform them of your imminent arrival?"

"Yes, please," Klara said, clasping her hands behind her.

When she stepped into the conference room the rest of the team were already seated and they all turned toward her arrival.

"Forgive my lateness," she said, dipping a small curtsy, "I was taking some air on the balcony, I must have missed the call."

"It's okay," Captain Rogers assured her, rising and pulling out the chair next to his, "We're just getting started."

Klara returned his smile tentatively and took the offered seat, folding her hands in her lap and pointedly _not_ looking at Clint Barton, seated backward in a chair in the opposite corner.

"My sources have uncovered some interesting information concerning Hydra movement of classified SHIELD items," Miss Hill said, flicking at the tablet in her hand to project a readout onto the screen at the front of the room.

"Do these sources have anything to do with that base in the Arctic that mysteriously exploded a few days ago?" Mr. Stark asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know anything about that," Miss Hill said, without missing a beat, "But my source is completely reliable, I can assure you."

Mr. Stark smirked but chose not to comment any further. Miss Hill highlighted a line on the screen and expanded the item, labeled "Das Werkzeug des Unfuges".

The Tool of Mischief.

Klara stiffened, and she sensed Captain Rogers' gaze flit to her. She clutched her hands in her lap and forced herself to stillness.

"We believe this to be the current location of Loki's scepter," Miss Hill said, pulling up a topographical map, "It's an abandoned fortress on the outskirts of Novi Grad in Sokovia. Wolfgang Von Strucker had a research facility constructed underneath it while he was still working under SHIELD, off-record so we had no intel on it until now."

"Until your _'source'_ blew up the Arctic?" Stark said, making quotation gestures with his fingers.

Miss Hill gave him a blank look but did not deign to answer, directing her next statement to Captain Rogers instead.

"If we strike now, before Strucker gets word that we have this information, we may be able to take him by surprise," she said, "If he knows we're coming, it's possible he could just disappear."

"Taking the scepter with him."

Captain Rogers set aside his tablet and looked around the room. Klara might have imagined it, but his eyes seemed to linger on her for a second or two longer. She dropped her gaze to her hands.

"Okay," he said, "Everybody suit up. We'll meet in the hangar half an hour from now."

The team scattered, and Klara made to follow Lord Thor down to their rooms, but she was stopped by the sound of her name.

"Klara." Captain Rogers approached her and, when he continued on his way, Klara fell into step beside him. "You okay? You went a little pale."

She clasped her hands behind her and let her shoulders settle firmly, eyes fixed forward.

"Yes, Captain. I am prepared to fulfill my duties to the best of my abilities."

"That's...not really what I meant."

She gave him a questioning look, but he just shook his head and gestured toward the open elevator door. She stepped inside and he followed, pressing the buttons for both his floor and hers.

"Never mind. Listen, conditions are gonna be kind of chilly, so be sure to dress warm. I don't think we'll need Code Green if we take Strucker by surprise, but just in case I don't want you getting frostbite from a lullaby."

"Yes, sir," she responded, and he glanced down at her, frowning.

"You sure you're okay?"

Klara looked into his eyes and reassurances died on her lips. He was so...sincere. She could not, in good conscience, do any less than reciprocate.

"It is a piece of him," she admitted, "A remnant of his past that I have never understood. It makes me feel..."

She trailed off and realized with a start that she was touching the pendant that hung at her collarbone. She dropped her hand and saw that Captain Rogers had followed the motion with his eyes. She straightened.

"...like he is present somehow. But I assure you, Captain Rogers, I am prepared to complete any task that is necessary to keep such a thing out of hands that would abuse its power."

To her surprise, the captain smiled at her.

"I know, Klara," he said, as the chime sounded and the elevator door opened on his floor, "You don't have to convince me. I know."

She was so shocked by this response that she could not form words to reply. His smile only widened and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder before he exited, calling out as the doors shut.

"Remember, dress warm."

And then Klara was alone, blinking at her own bewildered reflection in the shiny metal, unsure what the tightness in her chest might mean.

* * *

Alice didn't mind being the getaway driver. Really. But she had to admit, sometimes it was a little difficult to just sit and wait, with exclamations and commands streaming in her ear completely out of context.

"Loki's scepter must be here. Strucker couldn't mount this defense without it. At long last."

An explosion. Static.

"At long last is lasting a little long, boys."

"Yeah. I think we lost the element of surprise."

"Wait a second. No one else is going to deal with the fact that Cap just said _'language'_?"

"I know." Cap's regretful tone made Alice smile. "It just slipped out."

There were a few crashes, more static. Alice thought she heard a roar in the background that made her heart leap, and then JARVIS cut in on the comm.

"Sir, the city is taking fire."

"Well, we know Strucker's not going to worry about civilian casualties," Tony said. Alice sat up and put her hands on the jet controls.

"Want me to cut 'em off?"

"Stay in the nest, Baby Bird, we got this." Alice rolled her eyes and slumped back in her seat again. "JARVIS send in the Iron Legion."

"Iron Legion?" Klara asked.

Alice turned her seat around, realizing there was no point in sitting at attention like they were going to actually _need_ her.

"Something Tony's been working on, kind of a peace-keeping force. Automated suits that JARVIS can use to corral the public when we're out fighting the bad guys."

"Oh," Klara said, her head tilted curiously, "Do the people obey them?"

"I guess we're about to find out."

There was a loud zap and a cry of pain in the comm that cut her off.

"Clint!" That was Nat's voice.

"Son of a bitch." Alice was up out of her seat, pushing past Klara to the back of the quinjet for her medkit. "Nat, talk to me."

"We have enhanced in the field." That was Steve's voice, not Nat's, which was entirely unhelpful.

"Enhanced?" Klara asked, turning toward the back ramp of the quinjet as if she might see what he meant, "Like the monkeys?"

"God, I hope not," Alice muttered, opening her medkit and trying to get control of the comm again, "Nat, you gotta give me something!"

"Clint's hit!" she said, then said something sharp under her breath in Russian, "Somebody wanna deal with that bunker?"

There was a roar and a crash in the background.

"Thank you."

"Hit where? How bad?" Alice asked, pulling out the stretcher from beneath the flight seat compartment. Clint wasn't talking, which meant it was probably bad. She tried not to think about how bad.

"Side wound, laser burns, looks like it might have gotten all the way down to the muscle."

Alice swore again under her breath and got out one the IV bags and a syringe of painkiller, antibiotics, stitching kit. The comm was still full of chatter, but she caught Thor's voice out of the rest.

"I can get Barton to the jet. The sooner we're gone the better. You and Stark secure the scepter."

"I'll be set up by the time you get here," Alice said into the comm, just so they knew she wasn't sitting around like a lump.

"Copy that," Steve acknowledged.

There was a bit of static and a loud boom that reverberated through the jet.

"Find the scepter," Thor said again.

"And for gosh sakes, watch your language!"

Steve sighed into the comm. "That's not going away anytime soon."

"Klara, get the ramp, would you?" Alice said, as she lifted the stretcher to waist height and set up the IV bag on its stand.

The back ramp came down just as a burst of wind and a flurry of snow announced the arrival of Thor, carrying Clint in his arms. The archer was conscious, but clearly in pain, clutching at his bleeding side.

"In here!" Alice directed, and Thor set Clint on the stretcher, "Help me get this off."

Clint cried out as they peeled away his coat and undershirt. The wound was deep and bleeding freely despite the puckered edges of burned skin. No luck with cauterization then. Damn. Clint moaned and writhed on the cot, and Alice picked up a syringe, uncapping it with her teeth.

"Sorry, Bird-Boy," she muttered to him and, without any further warning, stuck him right in the side with it. He cried out and then relaxed a little, taking gulps of air and finally opening his eyes wide.

"Damn, this sucks," he gasped.

"I'll have you patched up in a jiff," Alice said with a smile. She felt a lot better knowing that Clint could still quip, even a little bit. "Let's get this IV in you so you'll stop squirming."

* * *

Klara watched with fascination as Alice worked to treat Clint Barton's wound. She knew Alice and the archer were close friends, yet never once did the girl show even an ounce of panic, instead working with the quick efficiency of someone with years of experience that she did not yet possess. She had just inserted a needle into his arm and started a drip of liquid when the voice of Natasha Romanov came clear over the earpiece.

"We're locked down out here."

"Alright, time for a lullaby," Captain Rogers answered, "Klara, you copy?"

"I'm here," she acknowledged, picking up her thick white coat from the flight seat and wrapping it around her against the wind and snow, "On my way out."

Before she gained the ramp a hand took her arm, and she looked back into the concerned eyes of Lord Thor.

"Be careful, Klara."

She ducked her head respectfully to him and (though he still seemed reluctant) he released her. She pulled up her hood, tucked her chin into her collar, and made her way out into the snow.

The trees were barren columns, creating a maze of dark and light that Klara wove through with as much stealth as she could muster. She knew it was possible there might still be rogue forces hiding in the trees, but she also trusted that if Natasha Romanov said it was clear, then she had done her best to guarantee the truth of that assessment. There was a crash and a familiar roar, and Klara turned to follow it, slipping slightly on the wet snow as she crested a ridge and finally found him.

"Hello, my friend."

He turned toward her voice and snorted, brandishing some crumpled bit of metal in his hand. Klara pushed back her hood and crouched down, pressing her hand to the cold earth. She discovered that she was actually at a level with his eyes for the first time. She took a moment to observe the dark depths before she continued.

"You've done very well," she said, her voice falling easily into the soothing tone that he seemed to like best, "You have defended our friends and this world with courage and strength."

She reached out her hand to him and he snorted, shaking his head and taking a step away. Klara smiled and kept her hand extended.

"For never-resting time leads summer on

To hideous winter, and confounds him there; _"_

He turned back to her. He looked her right in the eye and held her gaze for several long seconds. It was still awe-inspiring to be in his presence, to know the power he possessed and to defy the fear that power instilled.

"Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,

Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where: _"_

He snorted once more, but this time he took a step toward her and reached out his hand to hers. Their skin touched and Klara felt the magic ripple away.

"Then were not summer's distillation left," she murmured as she traced the lines of his hand, up and around his arm, never breaking contact with his eyes, now wide and trusting, "A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass."

He moaned and jerked, breaking contact, but it was already done. He stumbled back, shrinking and groaning until he fell writhing into the snow. Klara quickly stood and made her way down to him, pulling an old, worn sweater out of an inner pocket of her coat. She knelt at his side and smiled down at his small, shivering form.

"Welcome back, Dr. Banner."

He smiled grimly and took the sweater she offered, putting it on without a word. Klara helped him to his feet and together they trudged back through the snow toward the quinjet.

The rest of the team had already arrived, and Tony Stark had them in the air two minutes later, headed back to the Tower. Clint Barton was stable but unconscious, and Alice spent the majority of her time fussing over either the archer or Dr. Banner.

"Hey Banner, Dr. Cho's on her way in from Seoul, is it okay if she sets up in your lab?" Stark asked, turning in the pilot's chair.

"Helen's coming?" Alice asked, looking up from the bandage on Clint Barton's side, "We haven't seen her in over a year!"

"Yep, she's bringing you some new toys to play with," Stark said, "Simulcrum tech, we're gonna fix Barton up right."

"Cool," Alice mused, adjusting the drip on the bag of liquid nearby.

"Tell her she's welcome to the lab, I'm sure she remembers her way around," Dr. Banner said, sounding slightly groggy, but coherent.

Stark turned back to the quinjet controls to relay the information. Klara got up and made her way around the stretcher, watching as Alice minutely adjusted Clint Barton's bandaging for the tenth time.

"He'll be alright," Klara said, in what she hoped was a comforting tone, "You did a fine job."

Alice nodded, acted as if she might adjust the bandage again, but then thought better of it and dropped her hands.

"Yeah," she said, "It was just...bad, you know?"

Klara smiled and touched the girl's shoulder. Alice smiled, but it was tense and Klara left her to her work, instead turning her attention to the only other real point of interest, the thing she had been actively trying to avoid since returning to the jet.

The scepter looked both beautiful and dangerous, gold glimmering in the cold light of the gem.

 _When I close my eyes I see the stars...beautiful in the same way a newly forged dagger is beautiful..._

She approached on soft feet, but Lord Thor turned as if he had heard her approach and offered a hand to her, drawing her closer. Klara accepted the arm around her shoulders. She felt very much in need of comfort.

"Feels good, yeah?" Tony Stark said, approaching them and leaning casually against the table containing this precious piece of one she'd lost, "I mean, we've been after this thing since SHIELD collapsed. Not that I haven't enjoyed our little raiding parties, but-"

"No, but this..." Thor hesitated and tightened his grip around Klara, "This brings it to a close."

"As soon as we find out what else this has been used for," Captain Rogers amended, gazing with a furrowed brow at the scepter, "I don't just mean weapons. Since when is Strucker capable of human enhancement?"

"What is that exactly?" Klara asked, looking curiously at the three men in turn, "In the field, you said 'enhanced'. What does that mean?"

"It's like Stars and Stripes over here," Stark said, slapping Captain Rogers on the shoulder, which earned him an eye roll, "They used something to enhance their genetic material, gives 'em a little extra boost. It's the same way they were able to work around the compatibility issues with the monkeys and their tech enhancements. Don't worry, Banner and I will give it the once over before you all troop back to Asgard."

Klara stiffened and her breath caught in her chest. Back to Asgard... He'd said... She hadn't thought...

"I mean if that's cool with you?" Stark asked Lord Thor, completely unaware of the twisting havoc he had unleashed, "Just a few days until the farewell party. You're staying, right?"

"Yes, of course." She felt Lord Thor's eyes flit to her, and she worked hard to relax her shoulders. "A victory should be honored with revels."

"Yeah, who doesn't love revels?" Stark agreed, grinning, "Captain?"

Captain Rogers blinked and Klara realized that he had been watching her too. Had her distress been so obvious? He had read her so easily earlier when Loki had been on her mind...

"Well," he said, directing his attention back to Stark, "Hopefully this puts an end to the Chitauri and HYDRA, so...yes, revels."

His eyes flitted to her again, and Klara dropped her gaze. There would be a few days then. A few days left before... She glanced around the quinjet, saw Alice curled up in the seat beside Dr. Banner, her head on his shoulder as he slept. Natasha Romanov, standing at Clint Barton's unconscious side trying not to look concerned. And Klara felt a great, gaping emptiness at the thought of leaving them all behind.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** First of all, I'm so sorry this chapter is late! I didn't realize how much editing it needed it, I worked on it all day yesterday and it still wasn't anywhere near where it needed to be. Hopefully, this won't happen again. As a consolation, this is a really _long_ chapter, so hopefully the wait will be worth it :) Okay, onward!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty**

"You sure he's going to be okay?" Nat asked, leaning back into the corner and smirking, "Pretending to need this guy really brings the team together."

"There's no possibility of deterioration," Dr. Cho assured her as she powered up her machine and began the process of putting Clint back together again, "The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous. His cells don't know they're bonding with simulacrum."

"She is _creating_ tissue!" Alice exclaimed, tugging on Bruce's sleeve in her excitement, "It's so cool!"

"What's cool was that stitching job," Helen said with a smile, and Alice resisted the urge to hide her blush behind Bruce's shoulder, "Those sutures were a work of art. I was sorry to have to cut them."

"I wasn't," Clint assured her, his words slurring the tiniest bit from the anesthetic, "I have enough scars to last a lifetime. I don't need another one."

"Well, it would have been a beautiful scar," Helen insisted, forcing Clint's head back down to the table, "Now hold still. This takes a little longer without the Regeneration cradle."

"Oh, he's flatlining," Tony announced as he made his grand entrance, "Call it. Time?"

"Nah man, I'm gonna live forever," Clint answered as Tony handed him something green and slushy in a plastic cup, "I'm gonna be made of plastic."

"You'll be made of _you_ , Mr. Barton," Helen insisted, "Your own girlfriend won't be able to tell the difference."

"Well, I don't have a girlfriend," Clint said with a lazy smile.

Helen rolled her eyes. "That I can't fix."

"You're gonna teach me how to use this thing, right Helen?" Alice asked, crouching down so she could watch the fabricator humming back and forth over Clint's side, "Before you go home?"

"Of course," Helen said, nodding absently as she adjusted something on the main output screen, "It's pretty simple once you get it programmed, and we'll take care of that before I leave, collect samples from everyone, make sure their molecular structure is plugged in. Then it's only a matter of scanning the wound and pressing a button. This is the next thing, Tony," she said, tossing him a smirk over her shoulder, "Your clunky metal suits are going to be left in the dust."

"Well, that is the plan," he agreed, "And Helen, I expect to see you at the party on Saturday."

"Unlike you, I don't have a lot of time for parties."

"Aw, come on, Helen!" Alice insisted, hopping to her feet, "Pepper already said she can't come. Please don't make me and Nat deal with all these Neanderthals on our own."

"Hey!" Tony exclaimed.

"Well, I suppose I can't leave fellow ladies in need," Helen said, grinning, "It'll take until Saturday to get the equipment calibrated anyway."

"It's a date!" Alice declared.

"I thought I was your date?" Bruce asked, trying and failing to turn his lips into a convincing pout.

"Don't worry, honey, I'll save a dance for you," she said, leaning in to give him a kiss.

"You guys are gross," Clint mumbled.

"Come on, Doctor," Tony said, clapping Bruce on the shoulder, "We've got our own sandbox to play in."

"But I like this sandbox," Bruce said, throwing Alice a grin over his shoulder as he allowed Tony to pull him out of the room.

"Love you!" Alice chirped.

"We love you too!" Tony called back, tossing her a wave without a glance back. Alice rolled her eyes, but she still felt a grin sliding onto her face.

"Seriously," Clint muttered, his eyes sliding closed as the pain meds finally took him under, "Gross."

* * *

"Sounds like a hell of a fight, sorry I missed it," Sam said, as they sidestepped a group of party-goers heading downstairs toward the dance floor.

"If I had known it was going to be a firefight I _absolutely_ would have called you," Steve insisted, but Sam just grinned and shook his head, clapping him on the shoulder in that easy-going way he had.

"No, no, I'm not _actually_ sorry, I'm just trying to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons' case. Avenging is your world."

They reached the top of the stairs and turned to look out over the large, open floor covered in flashing lights, thumping with music that Steve would never have believed could exist five years ago, and filled with hundreds of people he didn't actually know.

"Your world is crazy," Sam said, sounding partly sincere, partly in awe.

"Be it ever so humble," Steve agreed. It hit him at the oddest times, how much his world had changed. How much he now took for granted. How much this place was starting to feel like-

"You find a place in Brooklyn yet?"

Steve snorted and turned back to his friend, leaning back against the railing. "I don't think I can _afford_ a place in Brooklyn."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, well, home is home, you know?"

Steve felt a smile tug at his lips. He actually couldn't agree more.

"You planning on sticking around for a bit?" Steve asked, "I think Alice has another movie night planned this coming weekend if you wanna-"

But Sam was already shaking his head.

"Nah, I actually gotta go in a little while, got a plane to catch."

Steve raised an eyebrow, feeling a jolt in his chest.

"Lead on that cold case?"

Sam shrugged.

"Could be nothing. There's been some odd search activity out in the Midwest the last couple of months, somebody poking around in the old SHIELD files, digging for some pretty specific stuff: amnesia, missing persons reports, prosthetic research."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," Steve said, straightening under the weight of guilt and duty he could feel settling over his shoulders, "You want me to go with you?"

"Nah, man, I got this," Sam said, clapping him on the arm in a friendly but insistent way, "It's just some hick town in west Kansas, probably some kid gearing up for the coolest history paper ever. It's not super sophisticated stuff, they haven't even broke most of the encryption. I'll call you if I find anything else."

Steve was about to reply when he heard someone call his name. He turned and saw Alice making her way toward him, slipping by several older men in uniform who whistled as she went by. She smiled sweetly at them, while simultaneously flipping the bird, which made them roar with laughter.

"Damn girl, that was stone cold!" Sam said as she approached, brushing back her short hair and tugging at the mauve dress that hugged her knees and shoulders, draping around her collarbone. Her matching heels made her almost level with Sam's eyes and she used it to her advantage, giving him a wicked grin.

"Don't play if you don't wanna get hurt."

Sam lifted his glass in respectful salute, and Alice turned her attention back to Steve.

"Hey, sorry to bug you, but I can't find Klara. I think she slipped off somewhere and I can't seem to drag Thor's attention away from that stupid foosball game he's playing. She's been pretty down lately, would you mind-?"

"Yeah," Steve said, pointedly ignoring the smug, knowing look on Sam's face, "I'll look around for her."

Alice's smile relaxed a little.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver." She reached out to squeeze his elbow, then gave Sam a friendly punch on the arm as she walked by, weaving her way down the crowded stairs.

"So," Sam said, and Steve was forced to face that irritating smirk, "Captain America gotta go save the day again, huh?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything in his defense, Sam held up his hands in surrender.

"Look, all I'm saying is, Alice isn't stupid, and she came to you. There's a reason for that."

"Yeah, Thor was unavailable," Steve said, finishing off his beer to wash away the tang of bitterness on the back of his tongue.

"Yeah, I don't think that was it," Sam said, his eyes sparkling as he leaned forward, "Come on, man, why don't you just—"

"Because she's leaving, Sam," he said, setting his empty beer bottle on a nearby table with the resounding finality that he felt in his chest as he said the words, "Back to Asgard. Tomorrow."

When he met Sam's eyes again, he didn't find the sympathetic look he was expecting. Instead, his friend was smirking.

"Really? Did _she_ say that?"

 _...before you all troop back to Asgard._

That's what Tony had said. And Thor had agreed. And Klara... she hadn't argued, of course. Where Thor went she followed, that was just how it was. But Steve had seen a flash of-he hesitated to call it panic- _surprise_ in her eyes...and she had been so quiet lately...

Goddamnit, Sam.

"She's going home," he repeated, mostly for himself, shoving down the tiny bubble of doubt he could feel pressing against his ribs.

Sam shrugged.

"If you say so," he said, "But you should probably ask her. You know, just to be sure."

He winked and tipped back the last of his beer. Steve rolled his eyes, but he could feel the fond grin tugging at his lips despite himself.

"You're a goddamn sap, Wilson," he said, "You and Romanov should form a club."

"The Hopeless Lost Cause of Captain America's Love Life," Sam recited solemnly, "We meet every third Wednesday."

Steve laughed and shoved at him playfully.

"Get outta here, you idiot," he said, "I gotta get to work."

"Yeah, alright, fine, I'm gonna catch my plane." Sam held out his hand and Steve took it. "I'll let you know what I find."

"Thank you, Sam," he said, and he meant it. Ever since SHIELD fell, and through everything after, Sam had been there for him, in so many ways. Steve honestly didn't know what he would do without Sam watching his back.

He watched Sam make his way through the crowd until he was out of sight, then he turned and headed for the elevator. He already had a pretty good idea where he might find their missing Asgardian.

 _...you should probably ask her..._

Steve frowned as he stepped onto the elevator.

Goddamnit, Sam.

* * *

Klara sipped at the colorful mixture in her glass and turned her face up to the night, letting the breeze toss back the loose curls of her hair and flutter at her shimmering blue skirts. The moon shone brightly, and Klara shut her eyes, imagining the myriad of stars that lay beyond...waiting. She took another sip, though it did her little good. Midgardian drinks were not nearly as potent as she was used to.

"There you are."

She turned, startled. Captain Rogers stood in the balcony's doorway, the dim light of the abandoned penthouse lounge filtering in behind him. He was dressed quite nicely in his buttoned shirt and slacks, and a small, hesitant smile tugged on the corners of his lips. He let the door shut behind him, and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Alice sent me to look for you," he said, taking a measured step further onto the balcony, "I think she got stuck playing hostess."

"She is doing quite well," Klara agreed. It was true. Alice had taken to the party like she had been born to such things, flitting from group to group with her easy laugh and charming personality. It was easy to see why everyone liked her so very much. Why she would have found her place here.

"I'm supposed to bring you back," the captain said, studying her face, "But you don't exactly look like your in a party mood."

Klara turned her gaze outward again, this time observing the lights of the city twinkling around them. There was so much here that she still had not seen, so much she had not yet had the courage to do. So much...

"So," Captain Rogers said, turning to lean his back against the railing, and making it much more difficult for Klara to avoid his gaze, "Asgard."

Klara stiffened, regretting the drink she held that prevented her from clasping her hands as she wished to.

"Yes," she replied, trying to sound as neutral as possible. There was a weighted pause she wasn't sure how to fill.

"You know..." He trailed off and Klara risked a glance at him. He rubbed the back of his neck, one of his anxious quirks. "I mean, you don't seem all that thrilled about it. About going home."

Home. The word pressed on her like a hand to her chest. She felt her fingers start to tremble and she tightened her grip on the glass.

"I suppose not," she said, "I do not expect I will be particularly welcome there."

She had not meant the words to sound so bitter, so pained. She was on the verge of speaking an apology for the abrupt manner of her-

"You could stay."

The breath froze in her throat. It took her several moments and another of the captain's anxious gestures (this time smoothing back his hair) for her to realize that she was staring at him. She dropped her eyes to her drink.

"I mean, we could definitely use you," he went on, and then winced as if he had misspoken, "I don't... What I'm trying to say is you're not just Thor's servant, or handmaiden, or whatever you wanna call it. You have a place here, you've _earned_ it, same as the rest of us."

Klara met his eyes again. He was so earnest, so sincere. He seemed to hesitate, then reached out and took one of her hands. It always surprised her: how strong he was, and yet his hands were always gentle.

"You're home, Klara," he said, "If you wanna be."

This time, when he said the word 'home', the pressure in her chest lifted. She felt as light as the breeze that still ruffled her hair. She dipped her head in acknowledgment.

"I will consider it," she said softly, "Thank you."

He smiled and squeezed her hand before he released it. Klara felt the absence of his touch far more keenly than she should have liked.

"We really oughta get back," he said, pushing off the railing and heading back toward the door, "Alice is doing a great job, but if she misplaces two of us, she might lose a grip."

He held the door open for her to pass through, and Klara obliged him. They took the elevator together, and as the floors slipped by on the digital display, Captain Rogers turned and offered his elbow.

"May I?"

His smile was cheeky and warm, a jest only half-meant. The pendant around her neck seemed to gain weight, and Klara paused. It was only for a breath, but long enough for just a few words to whisper through her mind.

 _...That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,_

 _If thinking on me then should make you woe..._

She settled her fingers into the crook of the Captain's elbow as the elevator doors slid open and they stepped out into the noise and laughter of Mr. Stark's party.

* * *

Alice could feel the smug satisfaction on her face as she watched Steve and Klara sidle up to Thor, just as the group of older men surrounding him burst into a chorus of raucous laughter. Bruce came back with two drinks in hand, and Alice tried to wipe away the expression, but apparently, she didn't do a very good job.

"What do you look so happy about?" Bruce asked, handing her a glass.

"Oh, just-" She waved her drink in the direction of the others. Klara's hand was still resting on Steve's arm as he accepted a splash of something from a flask Thor was offering. The girl shook her head, but she was grinning, almost despite herself. "-I haven't seen Klara smile like that in... _forever_. Not since way before we got the scepter. I think...I don't know, maybe Steve and Klara have been good for each other. Maybe they could _keep_ being good for each other. I'd like that."

Bruce shook his head, swirling his drink absently in his tumbler.

"Don't get your hopes up too high," he said, "There's a lot going on there that none of us understand. On _both_ sides, not just Klara's."

"But they're good people," Alice insisted, "They deserve to be happy."

"We don't always get what we deserve."

Alice grinned at him, slipping her arm through his. "I got you."

Bruce gave her a weak smile in return. "Exactly."

Alice sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply of the cologne he so rarely wore, warm and lightly spiced.

"You're right," she said, "You're way more than I deserve."

She felt Bruce huff a laugh, as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"You're ridiculous, and I love you," he murmured.

Her grin widened, and she didn't argue.

* * *

"Come on, it's a trick!" Clint exclaimed, twirling an arrow in his fingers and grinning at Thor who, despite his inebriated state, was attempting to look earnest and profound. Alice was exhausted, content to watch the argument unfold without any intervention, now that the rest of the party-goers had left. She had curled up on the couch, her head in Bruce's lap, her bare feet tucked up under Tony's thigh, her eyelids starting to droop a little as Bruce ran his fingers through her hair.

"Whosoever, if he be worthy, shall haveth the power!" Clint recited dramatically before dissolving into laughter, "Whatever man, it's a _trick_!"

"Then please, be my guest," Thor said, sweeping his hand over the hammer sitting innocently on the coffee table between them.

Clint looked skeptical, but he got up off the floor. "Really?"

"Oh this is gonna be beautiful," Rhodey muttered, sitting back as Maria buried her face in his shoulder to smother giggles.

"Now Clint, you've had a tough week so we won't hold it against you if you can't get it up," Tony said, and Alice moved a foot up to shove his shoulder.

"Be nice," she mumbled, "He's an invalid."

"Thanks, Ripley, for that rousing endorsement," Clint muttered as he pushed up his sleeves and approached Mjolnir, eyeing the hammer as if staring at it might reveal its secrets. He smirked at Thor as he wrapped his hand around the handle.

"You know I've seen this before, right?"

He braced himself, tightened his grip, and pulled. Nothing happened. He strained for only a second before he let go, laughing.

"Man, I _still_ don't know how you do it!"

"Smell the silent judgment?" Tony asked, grabbing Alice's ankle before she could shove him again.

Clint stepped back and held out his arms. "Please, Stark, by all means."

What came next was the most ridiculous display of male testosterone Alice had ever seen. It was worth getting up, just to see the look on Bruce's face when he pretended to Hulk out and not a single person twitched. It was both hilarious and endearing.

After Steve had his turn, everyone turned expectantly to Nat, but the red-head only waved her beer at them.

"No, that's not a question I need answered."

"Klara?" Steve offered.

Klara blinked, her expression of tentative interest disappearing into surprised uncertainty. She glanced nervously at Thor before dropping her eyes down to her hands.

"I...believe I possess an unfair advantage," she admitted, "Mjolnir was put under a spell by the Allfather. Because of my...genetic disposition...to lift the hammer would not make me any more or less worthy of its power. It would be no more than a block of metal in my hand."

There was an awkward pause, and Alice could see Klara cringe a little between Thor and Steve as if she were aware that she had caused the uncomfortable silence.

"So," Alice said, sitting up and planting her feet on the floor, "None of the ladies wanna give this a shot? Helen? Maria?"

"Well come on, Baby Bird, let's see what you got!" Tony said, tapping her shoulder playfully with his knuckles.

"That's still not my code name," Alice said, but she got up and padded across the carpet toward the coffee table.

"If you think you're escaping that, you're delusional," Nat said, settling back onto the couch.

Alice squared herself up with the handle and gave it a quick glance. She had seen too much weird shit in her life to think for even a second this was some cheap carnival ripoff. She'd worked plenty of carnivals: she'd never seen anything like this. But still, there had to be _something_ , some kind of strategy or method to it. It couldn't just be random. She looked at Thor, who was smiling but his eyes were intense as he watched her.

" _Worthy_ , huh?" she asked, trying to sound glib.

Thor shrugged. "That is the inscription: 'Whosoever holds this hammer if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.' Though I assume gender is not an obstacle in this instance."

"But who, or what, decides?" Alice asked, and Thor tipped his head, "Who decides what we're worth? Maybe..." She looked down at the handle and slowly wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the smooth leather of the grip, pressing it into her palm. "Maybe _we_ do. Maybe we decide if we're worthy, something deep down inside us. And when we decide..."

She shut her eyes and looked deep, deeper than she normally allowed herself to go. She saw Bruce's face, the light in his eyes when he smiled, the way he was always trying to reassure her: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

She saw Tony too, covered in engine grease, and holding out his hand to her expectantly, always tinkering, never satisfied. She saw Clint and Pepper, Klara and Nat, Steve and Maria, the way they all surrounded her, lifting her up, each in their own way, seeing so much more than she ever saw in herself. She tightened her grip on the hammer and started to lift-

 _Jacob._

The name dropped into the sea of faces like a drip into still water, sending them rippling away and all she could see was the dark, the dark in her closet where she hid as the gunshots rang out, and her brother screamed and then didn't scream, and then there was blood, blood glistening in the moonlight-

Her hand jerked against the hammer's handle, but it didn't budge. Alice opened her eyes and let go, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug as she stumbled back, cradling her hand to her chest. She was suddenly cold, and she realized with a shiver that a thin sheen of sweat had broken out over her skin.

"Woah, easy, easy," Bruce soothed, appearing beside her and slinging Tony's suit jacket over her shoulders, rubbing warmth back into her arms. Alice leaned into his chest and shuddered.

"Sorry," she muttered, trying to shove the lingering dark back into the hole it had come from, "Sorry, I must have...must have had more drinks than I thought.

"You know, as much as 'Alice, Queen of Asgard' has a nice ring to it," Tony quipped with a grin, "Maybe we shouldn't kill ourselves trying to beat a system that's rigged. Which it is, by the way," he added, pointing at Thor.

"Bet your ass!" Clint agreed, "If Alice can't lift it, that thing's _gotta_ be rigged!"

"Steve, he said a bad language word," Maria said, pointing meaningfully at Clint.

"Did you tell _everyone_ about that?"

"These are all fascinating theories," Thor said, getting to his feet, "But I have a better one."

He scooped up the hammer and flipped it jauntily in the air.

"You're all not worthy."

Alice rolled her eyes as everyone loudly, but good-naturedly, protested this assertion...and was then cut off by feedback squealing across every speaker in the room. Even with her hands over her ears, Alice could still hear the ringing.

"Tony, what the-?"

"Worthy?" a tinny voice said, through the fading screeches, "No...how could you be worthy? You're all... _killers_."

The unfamiliar voice was coming from one of Tony's suits, one of the Iron Legion. It stumbled across the floor, dripping fluid and sparks, its face pocked with scorch marks. But its eyes were lit and focused entirely on them.

"Stark." Steve barked, but Tony was already moving.

"JARVIS?"

He stepped in front of Alice as Bruce pulled her back, slipping his phone out of his pocket and swiping at tech readouts. JARVIS didn't answer. Alice's heart went to her throat. JARVIS always answered.

"I'm sorry, I was asleep," the suit said, then shook its head, as if clearing a thought, "Or...was I a-dream?"

Everyone was on their feet now, staring at the cobbled together machine lurching into the room. Tony was still tapping on his phone, his eyes flicking back and forth from screen to machine.

"Reboot Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit."

"There was a terrible noise..." the bot said, almost pained, "And I was tangled in...in strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy."

Alice felt her skin crawl, and she slipped her hand into Bruce's. He took it and squeezed tight.

"You killed someone?" That wasn't Steve speaking. It was Captain America. And he was pissed.

"Wouldn't have been my first call." The suit waved its partly crushed hand in a disturbingly _human_ fashion. "But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices."

"Who sent you?" Thor demanded, his voice crackling with power, waiting only for his call.

But instead of answering, the bot quirked its head and what sounded like a recording played.

" _I see a suit of armor around the world._ "

"Tony?" Alice asked, a trickle of nerves bleeding into her voice, "Why does the scary suit sound like you?"

Tony and Bruce exchanged a look.

"Ultron," Bruce breathed, sounding horrified.

"In the flesh," the bot said, then seemed to hesitate, "Or...no, not yet. Not this _chrysalis_. But I'm ready. I'm on a mission."

"What mission?" Nat asked.

The bot, Ultron, looked at her, and Alice could have sworn there was a smirk on its metal face.

"Peace in our time."

The wall exploded and everything happened so fast. Alice found herself tossed down in front of one of the couches, Bruce crouched over her, shielding her from the debris and the oncoming rush of suits. The Iron Legion. She had helped create these robots with Tony, they were a peacekeeping force. They weren't designed to hurt anyone. But here they were attacking them, all of them, even their makers. It was like a nightmare, only worse because it was real.

"Stay down!" Bruce yelled and rushed across the room toward Tony, who was wrestling one of the bots. There were gunshots and clangs of metal on metal all around her, but Alice wasn't scared. Not really. Instead, she felt the old, familiar weight-destiny, Death, waiting to settle up the debt she owed-that she had been ignoring the last few years, for Bruce's sake. But it was here now. She could _sense_ it, lurking in the shadows.

Someone screamed, and Alice looked right. Helen Cho had hidden behind the grand piano, and one of the Legion had cornered her, wide-eyed and terrified. Alice felt a resolve harden in her chest. Death was coming for her, there was no avoiding that. But she would be _damned_ if it was going to take anyone else tonight.

She lurched to her feet and rushed the bot, flinging herself onto its back and jerking it off balance. It tossed her aside as easily as she'd imagined it would, and she slammed into the piano with an off-key bang. She hit the floor and cried out, but managed to scramble back into a crouch. Helen was staring at her, frozen on the floor.

"Run!" she snapped as the Legion suit turned its attention to her.

"We are here to help," the bot intoned in the voice Alice had helped Tony to program, the most non-threatening voice they could imagine.

"Like hell," Alice snarled and got ready to lunge. If she was gonna go, she was taking this bastard with her. She knew where the power cables were, buried in the neck joint, if she could just-

The bot moved and Alice tensed.

 _Clang!_

The metal head suddenly caved inward from the back in a shower of sparks. Alice blinked. Another clang, from the side this time, and the head came off entirely, hitting the carpet with a resounding thump, followed shortly by the body, twitching and sparking like an electrified fish. Klara was standing where the bot had been, brandishing what looked like a leg from the now-destroyed coffee table. Alice stared at her for a solid five seconds before she could find words.

"Nice work," she said, sounding about as awed as she felt.

Klara grinned. "Thank you."

Alice saw the other bot a second too late. She couldn't even cry out a warning.

"Klara!"

The girl dropped with surprising fluidity, turning to brandish her makeshift weapon, but as soon as she was down the bot exploded into pieces, the red, white, and blue shield of Captain America protruding from its midsection. It collapsed to the floor and Steve was leaping over it, crouching beside Klara, his hands hovering over her but not quite touching.

"Are you alright, are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"

"I am perfectly well, Captain Rogers," Klara assured him, standing and brushing her hair back out of her eyes, "But thank you, all the same."

"Alice?" Bruce's tense voice brought Alice to her feet again, searching. He was covered in what looked like transmission fluid, a dismantled bot on the floor at his and Tony's feet.

"I'm sorry, I know you all mean well," Ultron said, still standing where they had left him, twitching and dripping fluid on the floor, "You just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don't want it to _change_. How is humanity saved if it's not allowed to...evolve?" He picked up one of the broken bots and examined it. "With these? These _puppets_?" He crushed the metal head and tossed it aside. "There's only one path to peace: the Avengers' extinction."

There was a boom of sound and Thor's hammer plunged through the chest of the machine. It burst like a pinata, spilling metal parts onto the floor. As the lights in its eyes flickered out, the echoes of an old children's song floated through the buzzing air.

 _"I had strings, but now I'm free... There are no strings on me..."_

* * *

 **A/N:** Man, I really hope that chapter was as cool as I thought it was :) Also, there's a clue about the next story I'm planning to post in this series buried in this chapter, I'll give out internet cookies for guesses, and I'll even respond with "hot" or "cold" or variations on that theme ;P Anything else you want to discuss? Go ahead and let me know, I'll respond if I can without spoiling anything :D Only five chapters left!


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Klara sighed and put down the tablet she had been perusing, rubbing her eyes against the coming dawn. Lord Thor had tried to insist that she rest, but she had declined with as much politeness as she could muster. Rest would have been elusive, even had she tried, after the evening's events.

The scene after the battle had not been pleasant, tensions heightening as harsh words were exchanged, loyalties questioned, threats were made. Klara thought she could perhaps understand Tony Stark's frustration. After all, this was not the creation he had envisioned, this Ultron. He had meant it to protect, to ensure the safety of the world he lived in, a world that was not at all prepared for what lay beyond the realm they now inhabited. But he had done it alone (or at least with only the help of Dr. Banner), and it was clear Captain Rogers would find that hard to forgive. During her time at Avengers Tower, Klara had come to realize that this assortment of people, this _team_ was not just a team. It was a family. And for all his good intentions, Tony Stark had betrayed that family's trust. Klara got the cold, strange feeling that perhaps he had more in common with Loki than he might like to admit.

She glanced across the table and saw that Alice Ripley had fallen asleep despite her best efforts. The girl had worked tirelessly through the night, first tending to injuries, and then scouring the internet for any sign of their quarry. Dr. Banner's lab coat was draped over her sleeping form, and Klara noticed the doctor flitting concerned glances in the girl's direction as he paged through screens of scrambled data trying to establish the timeline of events that had led to last night's disaster. The two had not spoken, that Klara could see, and she wondered if Alice felt betrayed by him as well, working in secret with Tony Stark. As much as Klara hated to think that two people so deeply in love could be at odds, it did seem that Dr. Banner had a terrible habit of keeping important secrets from Alice. Klara suspected he thought he was protecting her...but it was not a habit Klara herself could have easily tolerated.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Captain Rogers, Maria Hill, and Clint Barton, who all entered the conference room looking grave. Klara straightened as Alice jerked awake, yawning and stretching, which dislodged the lab coat.

"What time is it?" she grumbled, "And where is my coffee? I'm gonna need coffee."

"Might wanna hold off on that," Captain Rogers said, setting a tablet down onto the table, "This isn't pretty."

Alice leaned forward and then recoiled with a sound of disgust.

"Jesus, Steve, you sure know how to get a girl's blood pumping in the morning. What the hell?"

Klara leaned forward to see the horrific scene for herself: a man with a gunshot to the head, and written on the wall in the man's own blood "PEACE".

"Ultron's been busy," Captain Rogers said, taking the tablet back, "And it looks like he's recruited the Maximoff twins in his campaign."

"Murder-bots and enhanced, working together," Alice muttered, rubbing her face vigorously, "God, this just keeps getting better and better."

Klara noticed Dr. Banner flinch, but pretended not to.

"This is a smokescreen," Miss Romanov countered, pointing at the bloody word on the wall, "Why leave a message when you've already given a speech?"

"Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss," Captain Rogers agreed.

"Yeah, I bet he..." Miss Romanov trailed off and turned to one of the computers behind her, tapping on a few keys. "Yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased."

"Not everything," Tony Stark said, his hands deep in his pockets.

And so they found themselves digging through boxes of file folders, all that remained of their information concerning the Baron Von Strucker. Klara was setting aside her first stack of files (containing only known aliases and identification papers) and reaching for a second when there was a light touch on her shoulder. She jumped and turned. Lord Thor stood behind her with a finger to his lips and motioned that she should follow. She stood and they left the conference area, passing through the lounge, and out onto the balcony. The sun had fully risen now, and the city was bathed in its golden light, glass and metal glittering like reflections on water.

"Were you able to contact Heimdall?" Klara asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"No," Lord Thor admitted, "Either he is not at his post or he's been ordered not to respond."

Klara nodded, but the news gave her pause. She had never known a time when Heimdall was not at his post. But the only person who could order the watch-guard to silence was the All-Father and why would he-?

"I'm sending you away, Klara," Lord Thor said, and it was so abrupt that it took a moment for her to process the words, "I've contacted Jane, she's currently in Switzerland awaiting your arrival. There is a flight in a few hours-"

"My lord," Klara cut in, then dropped her head in deference, her hands clasped behind her, "Forgive me, but...I do not wish to go."

There was a long pause, and Lord Thor sighed.

"This is not a simple mission, Klara," he said, "The dangers are-"

"I understand," Klara said, surprised at her boldness in interrupting him a second time, "I also understand that these... _enhanced_ , as the Midgardians call them, possess what very much sounds like magic. In which case, my unique abilities might be of invaluable use. I cannot shirk the responsibility of that knowledge, my lord."

He studied her face for a moment. Then, to Klara's surprise, he took her by the shoulders and smiled at her.

"I am very glad to have brought you to Midgard, Mistress Klara," he said, "I believe it has been good for you."

Klara blinked at him, then bowed her head.

"I am very glad to have had the opportunity to serve you, my lord," she said, "Even when you did not particularly wish for my service."

He laughed then, a hearty chuckle and gave her arms an affectionate squeeze.

"Come," he said, "It will be an honor to stand side-by-side with you in battle!"

The door to the balcony opened, and Maria Hill poked her head out.

"We've got something."

* * *

Alice wouldn't have said she was pissed. Well... Okay, maybe she was a _little_ pissed. But that could have been the sleep deprivation. She wasn't really pissed at Bruce. Maybe. Okay, she was _more_ than a little pissed at Bruce. Even though she knew she should probably be more pissed at Tony. After all, Tony had created a crazy robot intent on annihilating Earth's mightiest defenders...who had murdered JARVIS. She blinked back another threat of tears as she pictured the garbled, broken code that had once been her friend. JARVIS had been there through some of her roughest moments in the Tower. He had never once judged her when she asked him to look up the earliest flights from JFK to anywhere. And he had never questioned her decision to cancel those flights just as she was on the verge of booking them. He had been there for her when she hadn't even known she needed him. And now he was gone.

"Might wanna ease up on the stick there, kid."

Alice blinked and relaxed her grip, realizing that she had inadvertently allowed the quinjet to drift into the upper atmosphere. She swore under her breath and began to lower them back down. Clint smiled at her, but the expression was tight around the edges.

"You good?"

Alice nodded, keeping her eyes on the instruments until they reached an acceptable altitude, then switched on the auto-pilot. "Yeah. Just let my mind wander. Won't happen again."

"Hey," Clint dropped to a crouch by her arm, the concern that had only been a hint before now full-blown on his face. "I know you can do the job. I'm asking as your friend, not your teammate who would like to get to Africa in one piece."

That made Alice smile despite herself.

"I'm pissed," she finally admitted, "But no more than anybody else, I guess. I'll be okay."

"Hey, personally, I think you've got more right than most of us to be pissed," Clint said, glancing over his shoulder, back toward the flight seats where Alice knew Bruce was probably fidgeting and fretting, "I mean, you share a bed with someone, you kind of expect they'll tell you the big stuff. No matter how scary or how much they want to protect you."

Alice stared at Clint for a second, suddenly realizing she knew very little about his personal life. He'd said he didn't have a girlfriend, but that didn't mean the man was a monk. Had he been in a serious relationship before? As a SHIELD agent? Or was he just talking out of his ass? Almost as if he could read her mind, he smirked.

"Yeah, I know, I don't seem like the guy to be giving out relationship advice. But trust me, I get you. Just...I know he screwed up. Major screwed up. But you should talk to him, sooner rather than later. I'd hate for two of the most disgustingly in love people I know to break down over this. It would feel like...I don't know, like letting the bad guys win. And we're the Avengers: we don't let the bad guys win."

Alice's smile widened.

"We?"

He stood up and shrugged, adjusting the quiver on his back.

"If you don't think you're an Avenger, Baby Bird, I don't know what you think you've been doing the last couple months."

"Saving your dumb ass, mostly," Alice said, turning back to the controls.

"Exactly. Avenging." He squeezed her shoulder, then dropped back to the hold with the others. The African coastline was in view and Alice tapped her earpiece.

"We're five minutes out, folks," she said, flipping a few switches and taking control of the flight stick again, "Seatbacks and trays in upright and locked positions."

"Copy that," Steve replied.

She listened with half an ear to Steve's pep talk and direction for the plan of attack. Steve, Thor, and Tony would go in through the front door. Clint and Nat would take up positions above. Bruce and Alice would stay behind in the jet unless called upon.

"Klara, I want you to stay up high with Clint," Steve said, and Alice could almost feel the air thicken, "It'll be the safest place, out of the direct line of fire, and you'll have a great vantage to see the enhanced if they make a play. Do not engage without direct orders, clear?"

"Perfectly, Captain."

Alice could hear the tension in Klara's voice. She could just imagine the carefully neutral expression.

"Clint? We still good?"

"Gotcha, Cap." Clint had that forced cheerfulness to his tone that Alice could recognize from a mile away. He was not pleased to be stuck as babysitter, but there was no more time to debate the point, and he knew it.

Alice put down just outside the boating salvage yard where Ulysses Klaue was reported to be running his business these days. It was a sad amalgam of rusted out container ships that looked like the perfect spot for a black market operation. Not that Alice would know anything about that, of course...

"Alright, it's go time, people," she said, flipping the switch to lower the back ramp, "Break a leg out there."

"Shut the door behind us, Alice," Steve said, "And stay safe."

"You too," Alice said, "Tony, do me a favor, and try not to give any of those rust buckets sentience while you're out."

"Har, har, you're hilarious," Tony's voice came back through the comms, but he sounded a little relieved for the jab.

She flipped the lever to close the ramp behind them, and set the controls for a quick launch, in case they needed to take off in a hurry. Then she sat back in the pilot's chair and shut her eyes. She took three deep breaths, trying not to think about Bruce sitting back in the bay, probably still fidgeting, probably trying to think of something to say and coming up blank. Probably waiting for her to explode.

 _...you should talk to him...sooner rather than later..._

She spun around in her chair, hands clasped, elbows on her knees.

"Alright," she said, looking Bruce straight in his wide, startled eyes, "Let's talk."

* * *

Klara watched the twins with a shocked sort of fascination. They were... They were _children._ Klara was no longer quite so horrified by what had happened to the lately departed Von Strucker. Children... Klara shuddered, and Clint Barton glanced at her, his bow already drawn and trained on the robot bantering with the three men that had dared to challenge him.

"I know you've suffered-" Captain Rogers spoke soothingly in her ear, addressing the twins rather than the thing that now controlled them.

Ultron made a disgusted noise that sounded like feedback in the comms, and Klara winced.

"Captain America," he said with contempt, "God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but-"

"If you believe in peace," Lord Thor demanded, "Then let us keep it."

"I think you're confusing peace with quiet."

"Yeah, uh huh, what's the vibranium for?" Stark cut in.

"I'm glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan-"

There was a crash, and suddenly the bottom of the boat was swarming with robots, similar to the Iron Legion but somehow more menacing, armed with weapons Klara had never seen before.

"Shit," Clint Barton muttered and loosed his arrow. It exploded in the face of one of the robots, and he already had another trained below. "Get down!"

Klara did as he bid her, ducking behind the solid railing of the gangway. They were on a corner and the joint had rusted out, creating just enough space for Klara to see a portion of what was happening below. She tried to find the children in the chaos, but the few seconds it had taken her to change position and refocus her eyes had been sufficient time for the two of them to disappear. Gunshots were being fired now, pinging against the metal and flying in all directions. These shots were not being taken by the robots, but by the men of ill-repute who had commandeered this vessel for their nefarious purposes. And they did not appear to be taking any side in the struggle except their own, shooting at metal and flesh alike.

Clint Barton let loose another curse and dropped beside her, changing the arrow tips in his quiver with the touch of a button. He glanced at Klara and rolled his eyes.

"Just...stay here!"

And then he was gone. Klara didn't know what she should do. Clearly, he was needed elsewhere. But she had been told to stay with him, that had been Captain Rogers' specific orders. Did Clint Barton's orders trump those in the field?

Klara didn't have time to debate the point further. She heard a loud roar, human, and turned to see two men, markings all over their skin and large guns in their hands, approach up the stairs to her right. If she remained where she was, she would surely be killed. So instead, she stood and turned into the top of the stairs, bracing herself on the rusty railing and kicking out with both feet. The two men, not expecting resistance, were taken completely off guard and went tumbling, hitting a rusted out stair that collapsed beneath their combined weight. With a sickening screech, they went screaming into the dark below. Klara turned and ran in the direction Clint Barton had gone.

* * *

"Alice, I wasn't keeping it from you intentionally," Bruce insisted. Alice tried very hard not to lose her cool. "You were busy with Helen, we've both had a lot going on these last few days, hell I've barely even seen you!"

"Artificial intelligence, Bruce," Alice said, with as much calm as she could manage, "It's not like you came up with that overnight. I'm not really upset that you didn't tell the team. Hell, I almost _get_ that! Let's be honest, Steve's a little bit paranoid when it comes to the science-y stuff. But for god's sake, we sleep together!" Bruce flinched. Okay, she might have lost her cool a bit. She tried to get it back. "We're not supposed to keep things from each other. That's not how it works. I mean, I've told you everything-"

"Except when it suited you," Bruce muttered, then looked immediately as if he regretted it.

"What the hell does that mean?" Alice snapped, giving up on her cool. Her cool was officially a lost cause.

"Really?" he growled, his eyes flickering a dangerous green, "It means you didn't seem to have a problem keeping secrets from _me_ if it meant you got what you wanted! It didn't seem to matter that I was trying to keep you safe, that I was trying to _protect_ you!"

"Protect me? We are _literally_ fighting a sadistic robot with a god complex, and you want to talk about _protecting me?_ "

"Oh, come on, Alice, you know this wasn't supposed to be the end game! Ultron was supposed to be our _shield_ , a safeguard, a way to get us out of this _hellhole_ of a life we're living!"

Alice reeled back like she'd been physically slapped.

"...hellhole?"

Bruce rubbed his face in obvious frustration.

"Don't you...?" He trailed off and seemed to gather himself before he looked at her again. "Don't you ever want to be _normal_ , Alice?"

Alice rolled her eyes, forcing back her pent-up tears.

"Come on, Bruce, we're not normal," she said, "No amount of AI is going to make us normal."

"But it might make us obsolete," Bruce said, leaning forward with an intensity that Alice rarely saw outside of a lab, "Which would be almost the same thing. No more running. No more worrying about whether the world was going to end today, or tomorrow, a year from now, ten years! We could just..." He reached for her hand and took it in both of his, cradling it. "...live."

Alice stared at him. She didn't know what to say. It had never occurred to her. When she had agreed to stay, to make him a part of the island of her life, she had also accepted that their lives would always be...this. Either running or waiting for the next disaster, when the world would need him to be their defender against the things that were just too big for anything less. She had never even considered that there might be-

There was an explosion of chatter on the comm, the broken feedback of metallic whines and the staccato of what sounded like gunfire. Bruce and Alice both jerked upright, and Alice put her hand to her earpiece, trying to make out anything through the static.

"Cap, is that you? Thor, Tony? Anybody copy?"

There was some more broken background noise and a few words, but they were garbled beyond recognition.

"Shit," Alice muttered and ran back to the pilot's seat, fiddling with the knobs on the comm base which only succeeded in creating a screech that she quickly corrected, "Damn container ship is jacking with the signal."

Bruce came up behind her and pressed the button to route comms through the quinjet speakers.

"Guys? Is this a Code Green?"

The only answer was static.

* * *

Klara ran for what seemed a long time before she finally caught sight of Clint Barton again. He had taken a position in another corner of the gangway and was firing arrows into the maelstrom of metal swarming below.

...and there was the girl. Approaching Clint Barton from behind, her hands swimming in red light, and he didn't appear to see her. She was coming for him, and all Klara could think about was what Loki had done to him, what he had been forced to endure. Not again. _Never_ again. Without another thought, Klara ran and slipped between them, clamping her hands around the girl's wrists. She felt the magic, a swirling red fire against her skin, but it did not flee as other magic did. It _fought_ , struggling against her, looking for a way through, still fixated on its goal, on Clint Barton's vulnerable mind.

"No," Klara growled through gritted teeth as the girl locked eyes with her, angry and frightened, "You will _not_ have him!"

Without truly realizing what she was about to do, Klara set her mind and _shoved_ , pushing back against the tendrils of red slithering against her skin. The girl screamed as the magic she had intended for another fell back upon itself, attacking the mind of the one who had created it. She stumbled away and Klara let her, releasing her hands and sagging back into strong arms that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. There was an indistinct blur and the girl was gone.

Klara blinked and shook her head, feeling as if there were cotton where her thoughts should be. She looked up into the shocked face of Clint Barton and realized with a jolt that the arms holding her upright were his. She struggled to find her feet again, but he resisted her attempts, holding her steady.

"Woah there, easy, take a breath."

Klara blinked again and furrowed her brow, confused. He had never spoken to her in that manner before. Like...like it _mattered_ , what she did. He lowered her to the floor and only then did he slip his hands away, moving to crouch in front of her, holding her up by the shoulders when she sagged again, his face set into a familiar frown.

"Forgive me," Klara rasped out, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple in an attempt to quiet the rushing cyclone spinning through her mind, "Forgive me, I...I don't..."

Her hands were shaking as she tried to run her fingers through her hair, lowering her head to her knees. She had never felt anything like this, like the strength had been sapped from her very soul.

"Klara." Clint Barton's voice brought her back from the black pool that threatened to close over her. She forced herself upright again. "What the hell did you do?"

Klara furrowed her brow and tried to think.

"I...do not know. Truly, I...I've never felt... It wanted _you_. Her magic. It tried to fight me. So I fought back."

There was a long pause. Then Clint Barton took her shaking hands in his, holding them tightly, his expression grim, but determined.

"Klara," he said, "You have shitty taste in men. But that was pretty badass. Thank you."

Klara blinked.

"...you're welcome."

He nodded and pressed his hand to his earpiece.

"Whoever's still standing, we gotta move!" There was no answer. The fighting had stopped, but there was only static on the comm. "Guys?"

Still nothing. Klara pressed a finger to her own earpiece, but she didn't know what to say. Clint Barton exchanged a glance with her and she could see her own fear reflected in his eyes.

The girl...what had she done?

* * *

"We don't even know if they need you," Alice said as Bruce took off the baggy shirt he was wearing and stripped out of his old khakis.

"Well it doesn't exactly sound like they're having a party in there," Bruce quipped, making his way to the back of the jet.

"What we can hear, you mean," Alice said, running after him and putting her hand over the lever for the back ramp before he could reach for it, "Bruce, _wait_ -"

"For what, Alice?" he asked, putting his hand over hers and searching her eyes, "What are we waiting for?"

Alice got the feeling that he was asking so much more than his words implied, more than she was ready to answer. He held her eyes with such intensity. It scared her. So she rolled her eyes and flipped the switch.

"We'll just take a look," she insisted as the ramp lurched and lowered onto the cracked landscape, "There's no need to get all worked up over nothing."

Bruce smiled at her and ducked out, Alice following after. The wind was hot and carrying bits of grit that she could feel digging into her skin. She shielded her eyes and scanned the landscape, the broken chatter on the comm an ominous backtrack to the desolate scene, a graveyard for rusted machinery. A breeze whistled past and Alice shuddered.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Bruce looked back at her, a smile in his eyes as he opened his mouth to reply.

She didn't even have time to gasp, much less warn him. The girl appeared in a swirling blur and, with a flick of her wrist, a burst of red light smacked Bruce in the back of the head like a physical blow. He cried out, lurching forward from the impact.

"Bruce!"

Alice lunged to catch him and saw the glimmer of a smirk on the girl's face as she disappeared, kicking a puff of dust into the wind of her wake. Bruce was still hunched over as if he were in pain. And Alice didn't think it through. That was her mistake. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, wanting to help him, to fix the hurt.

"Bruce, what's-?"

The last thing she remembered was a roar, an explosion of green, and then her world dissolved in a burst of pain and darkness.

* * *

Klara accepted Clint Barton's offered support as they descended the stairs into the ship's cargo hold. Not that she had much choice in the matter. She still did not feel strong enough to support herself for more than a few breaths without a rest. But Clint Barton did not seem to resent this, going so far as to rest her arm across his shoulders so he could more easily lift her over obstacles strewn in their path as they continued the search for their missing team members.

They found Captain Rogers first.

He lay prone on the rusted floor, and for one heart-stopping moment, Klara feared the very worst. Clint Barton lowered her to the floor, and then bent over the captain's still form, pressing fingers to pulse points and listening at his chest with intense concentration.

"He's breathing," he said finally, and Klara let out her own breath in a rush, "But his heart's racing, even for him. I don't know what's going on in there, but we need to get him out of it, quick." He looked up at her with expectant eyes. "Think you can do something?"

Klara rallied her strength and sat up, folding her legs beneath her so she was kneeling at the captain's side. He looked like he was sleeping. But his brow was furrowed deeply as if he were having the most unpleasant dreams.

"Captain Rogers?"

He did not stir. She reached out and gently touched his face, smoothing at the lines in his brow, brushing against his closed eyelids, tracing the shape of his mouth. She could feel the magic fleeing her touch, weak without the presence of its mistress, but still, he did not wake. She leaned forward, resting one hand against his cheek and the other on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, willing whatever power she possessed to him, to free him of this prison.

"Steven," she whispered, pleading, "Open your eyes."

His breath hitched, his lashes fluttered, and finally, _finally_ , he blinked to consciousness. He stared blankly up at first, and then his gaze fixed upon her.

"...Klara?"

He reached for the hand that still rested on his chest, clasping it tightly as if to reassure, to prove the reality of its existence. Klara smiled as a warm wave of relief crashed over her, smoothing back his hair with trembling fingers.

"Welcome back, Captain."

"I've got Nat!" Clint Barton's voice broke through the warmth and Klara jerked back, swaying with the sudden movement as she tried to regain her equilibrium. She felt Captain Rogers start to struggle upright, and she did not have the strength to dissuade him.

"Klara?" His voice wavered in her ear as if it came from underwater. "What happened? Are you-?"

Tony Stark's voice cut through the comm static, distorted but desperate.

"Anybody got ears? Klara, we could really use a lullaby out here!"

Klara's heart leapt to her throat. Dr. Banner...oh _no_...

She tried to find her feet, but barely managed to lift herself onto one knee before the darkness started to rise and she was falling. Something with more give than the metal floor caught her, and for a moment the darkness closed over her. She struggled against it and reemerged in time to hear Clint Barton say "...whole team is down, you got no back up here."

"I'm alright," Klara gasped, trying again to gain her feet, "Just get me to the doctor, I can...I can..."

"No, you can't," Clint Barton insisted, "Besides, we need you here. Klara? Stay with us!"

But the darkness came again, and Klara felt herself sag as it closed over her once more. She could not find the surface again, no matter how hard she searched.

* * *

 **A/N:** Fair warning, every chapter from this point on is my favorite, but this chapter, guys...THIS. CHAPTER. *runs and hides from inevitable fallout*


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Alice floated back to consciousness to the broken sound of quiet voices.

 _...news is loving you guys..._

 _Stark Relief...?_

 _...on the scene._

 _...took a hit...shake it off._

 _...stay in stealth mode...away from here..._

"So, run and hide?"

That was definitely Tony's voice, frustrated, angry, helpless. Alice furrowed her brow and tried to pull herself further out of the dark.

"Until we can find Ultron-" That was Maria, stalwart, resigned. "-I don't have a lot else to offer."

"Yeah," Tony sighed, "Neither do we."

There was the sound of a comm being cut off and some murmuring that Alice couldn't quite make out. She was nearly there...

She broke the surface with a gasp, like a diver desperate for air. The pain was _everywhere_ like she had been shoved into a fifty-gallon drum and rolled down a hill. She clenched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. God, it freaking _hurt._

"Hey, hey, easy there, breathe for me, Alice, come on-"

Tony's voice was right beside her, and he sounded so desperate and scared that Alice sucked in a breath just for that. Anything that would make Tony _that_ scared was enough to scare the crap out of her.

"That's it, one more, come on Baby Bird, one more for me."

She took another breath and let it out in a slow hiss. The pain did feel like it was dulling a little. She wasn't sure if that was her body going into shock, or if it wasn't really as bad as it had felt at first.

"Still...not...my code name," she managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Tony chuckled, and Alice finally felt like she could open her eyes. She blinked for a second, letting herself adjust and assess. She was on her back, obviously, looking at the roof of the quinjet. There wasn't much else to see, so she slowly and carefully turned her head to the side. The pain was a sharp shock, but it dissipated when she let her cheek rest on the stretcher. Tony was examining a bag of fluid hung beside her and tapping at something on a computer readout. The screen showed a steady heartbeat, oxygen levels, blood pressure. It took several seconds for Alice to realize the stats were hers.

Tony turned and caught her eye.

"Don't worry," he chirped, though the cheerfulness seemed forced, "Nothing broken, just a hell of a lot of bruising. You're gonna need painkillers for a day or two, but you'll pull through."

It was only then that Alice remembered why she was here. She saw her blood pressure spike on the monitor and her heartbeat start to stutter as panic took over.

"Bruce," she gasped, trying to sit up despite the excruciating pain every movement caused her, "Tony where's-?"

"Hey, no," Tony insisted, forcing her back down onto the stretcher, "No, nope, none of that, no moving yet, you're just gonna hurt yourself-"

"Where's Bruce?" Alice repeated, trying unsuccessfully to fight against Tony's hands, "Where is he? I wanna see him. I wanna see Bruce."

She could feel her words slurring, and she realized a second too late why her pain had been getting dull. Morphine. Tony had dosed her IV. Tony's face hovered over her, concern, worry, sympathy swimming over his features. He reached out and smoothed back her hair.

"It's alright, Baby Bird," he murmured, his words starting to sound like they were coming down to her from a long tunnel, "It's gonna be alright..."

Alice struggled to keep her eyes open, tried to turn her head again, but it was too heavy now. She tried to find her words, to make Tony understand.

"Bruce...please...Bruce..."

But Tony had slipped out of her grasp, and her words were drowned in soft velvet dark.

* * *

"Bruce...please...Bruce..."

Tony held Alice's hand as she went under again, her eyes drifting closed, but her face never fell into complete relaxation. A furrow remained in her brow and she continued to murmur under her breath. He looked up. Bruce sat on the floor, pressed into a far corner and wrapped in an oversized shirt, his dark eyes fixed on Alice with painful intensity. As if he felt Tony's gaze on him, he flicked his eyes up and then away, settling deeper into himself with a frown.

Alice wouldn't blame him. Not for a second. But Tony knew better than anyone that wasn't what mattered. Bruce would blame himself. He would carry that guilt for the rest of his life. Tony squeezed the girl's tiny hand and hoped that somehow she could find a way to help him.

* * *

Klara woke from a restless doze to see the sun rising over the tree-lined horizon through the quinjet's front window. She was curled on the floor beside the pilot's chair, her head pillowed on the armrest, but Clint Barton did not seem to object to her presence. She had not yet worked up the courage to face the others. She had regained consciousness well after it was far too late for her to be of any use, and the sight of Alice Ripley's bruised and beaten body, of Dr. Banner's glazed and haunted eyes, had sent her scurrying forward, to the relative safety of the cockpit. If she had only stayed behind, as she had done before, perhaps... Perhaps...

Clint Barton flipped a switch and put his hands on the controls.

"Get ready," he said, "We're here."

They set down in a small grove of trees, and as the ramp lowered, Klara could hear birds twittering in the early morning light.

"Tony, I'm fine," Alice grumbled but was unable to fight off Tony Stark's help as he slipped an arm around her and slid her off the medical cot, supporting her on unsteady feet. She seemed to be in one piece, if a bit groggy from the medication being used to combat her pain. Klara had been told that nothing was broken, that all-in-all she was well. But it still pained her to see the girl stumble, to see her look around blearily, searching for the one man who would no longer meet her eyes.

Dr. Banner kept to the back of the group as Clint Barton led the way forward, hunched in his oversized clothes, and Klara found herself matching his slow, steady pace, pulling back from the others.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, before she lost her nerve, "I should have been there. For both of you."

Dr. Banner tugged at the worn sleeve of his sweater, his eyes fixed on the path at their feet.

"I'm glad that you weren't," he said, "You would have only gotten hurt."

Klara wanted to reply, but his distant, mournful expression stopped the words in her throat.

They left the trees behind and crossed an open field of golden grasses, rippling in a gentle breeze. At the top of a small rise stood a house, large and white, worn but clearly well cared for. Clint Barton approached this house with no sign of fear or suspicion. In fact, as Klara watched, any tension that might have been in his shoulders bled away as he supported Miss Romanov up the steps of the large wooden terrace that led to the front entrance.

"What is this place?" Lord Thor asked.

"Safe house?" Mr. Stark answered though he sounded uncertain.

"Let's hope," Clint Barton said, but he was smiling as he stepped through the door, "Honey, I'm home!"

The group followed him through the entryway and into a sunlit front room, where they were greeted by a woman who was clearly expecting a child... _Clint Barton's_ child, if the smile and kiss she gave him were any indication.

Oh. Oh no.

Klara began to edge back toward the door, a cold feeling of unease spreading through her middle and sending chilling tendrils into her limbs. Clint Barton's house. Clint Barton's wife. Clint Barton's _children_. If there were any place where she would be unwelcome, it would be here, the place where Clint Barton felt most safe. And she, the lover of his greatest enemy...

Once she gained the shadows of the front entrance, she turned and fled, out the door, off the covered terrace, pausing only at the bottom of the stairs to breathe and collect her thoughts. The breeze was cool and sweet on her face and she wrapped her arms around herself to suppress a shiver. The quinjet...yes, that would do. There was no need to impose on his family, on kindness that was not meant for her. She would not speak to his children, she would not make a fuss. She would go quietly, now, while there was no one to see. She had straightened her spine and taken two steps when Lord Thor swept past her in a swirl of red cape.

"My lord?"

He jerked to a halt as if he had not expected to find her here. His face filled with regret as he put a hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry, Klara," he said, "But I saw something...in my dream. I need answers, and I won't find them here."

"Thor-" Captain Rogers had come out as well, but Lord Thor stepped back from her and, in a rush of wind, he was gone.

Gone. The word left a hollow place in Klara's chest. She had not been without Lord Thor since she had arrived in Midgard. He was her only remaining link to the world she had left behind. Without him, she was truly stranded. Stranded in the home of a man who had shown her nothing but hostility, among friends that she had not been able to protect.

There was a touch on her elbow and she blinked. Captain Rogers' expression was troubled, but he still managed a small smile, an attempt at reassurance.

"Come back inside, Klara."

She shied away from him, dropping her eyes and edging back from the house, toward the field that lay beyond.

"I...don't think...considering my history, the quinjet might be-"

"What are you guys still doing out here?"

Clint Barton's good-humored voice made Klara jump. He was leaning in the doorframe, giving them both a smirk that Klara had never before seen on his face. At least, not directed toward her.

"Staring into the wide, blue sky ain't bringing him back," he said, glancing up as if he might catch one final glimpse, "In the meantime, we've got a little bit of space to breathe. Not much, but some. Klara, you and Nat are bunking in Lila's room. Laura says she might have some old clothes to fit you if you wanna wash your stuff."

He held her gaze for several long, meaningful moments before he disappeared back into the house. Klara stared after him until she heard Captain Rogers huff a laugh. When she looked at him, bewildered, he only shook his head, a smug smile twisting his lips as he headed back toward the house.

"I told you, Klara," he said, glancing back at her with bright, sparkling eyes, "You're home."

* * *

The water felt amazing on Alice's bruised, stiff muscles, and she spent more time in the shower than she probably should have. Especially when she finally got out and saw Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed holding a folded towel and a pile of clothes.

"Oh. Sorry," she said, running a towel through her hair to avoid his gaze, "I think I used up all the hot water."

When she looked up again, he was smiling, but it was his sad smile, the one that apologized without words.

"I can wait."

Alice sighed and sank down onto the bed next to him, not quite touching. There was a moment of heavy silence between them.

"I've been thinking," she said finally, "About what you said earlier."

He looked up from the study of his hands, watching her face with care as she forged ahead.

"You're right." He raised an eyebrow. It made her feel better, that he could still do that at least. "About the waiting and this...this life. I guess I just assumed this was what you wanted, so it became what I wanted too. But if this _isn't_ what you want... Bruce, we don't have to stay, we don't have to be... _these_ people, the heroes."

She reached out and took his hand, squeezed it in hers.

"All I want is you," she said, "It's always been you. That's why I'm here. And if this isn't where you want to be, then let's go somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. Let's run with it, and...see what happens."

She gave him a tentative smile, but all he did was stare at her for several long moments. Finally, he reached out and cradled her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers and breathing in deep.

"Oh Alice," he whispered, "I was so wrong."

Alice blinked and sat back.

"What?"

He smirked, but there wasn't any humor in it.

"We're not normal," he said, "And if we run, what good will it do? Where could we _possibly_ go where I'm not a threat?"

"You're _not_ a threat," Alice insisted.

Bruce's expression hardened and with deliberate care, he slid his hand down to her shoulder and squeezed. Alice winced as the shock of a bruise bolted through her.

"Stop it!" she snapped, shrugging off his hand, "Bruce, you _didn't_ hurt me."

He dropped his hand and got up to pace, running frustrated hands through his hair. Alice got up to follow him.

"The Other Guy didn't hurt me either," she said, "You know who hurt me? That Maximoff bitch. She used the Hulk the way other people use a baseball bat or a grenade. You swing it around or throw it in the general direction of the thing you want to hit, and if other people get caught in between, well that just sucks for them."

"Yes, and that person was _you_!" Bruce shouted, whirling on her, then taking a step back again, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration, "God, Alice, you just— Even if I hadn't just leveled an entire city, there's no future with me! I can't ever..." He waved a hand around the room. "I can't have _this_ , kids, or... Do the math, I physically _can't_."

"Who said anything about kids?" Alice asked, taking a step closer, pulling both his hands in toward her, forcing him to be still, "Who said anything about _this_ life? Our lives can be whatever we want them to be."

He gave her a skeptical look. She stepped in again and pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heart hammering behind his ribs. She shut her eyes and let that sound rush through her. After a moment, he sighed and slid his arms around her, resting his cheek on top of her head. Almost immediately all the tension that had been in Alice's shoulders, in her chest, in her whole body relaxed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed closer.

"This," she whispered, " _This_ is the life I want. Whatever it takes for us to keep this, Bruce, I'll do it."

He let out a long, slow breath, and pressed his lips to her damp hair.

"I know."

* * *

Once Klara finally accepted that she was truly meant to stay in the house, making herself useful became the only way she could think to justify her presence. While she was no use with the laundry machines, she could sweep floors, tidy tables, and dust shelves as well as anyone. And it was strangely soothing, to fall back into the routines of the Queen's household, following procedures laid down by Elli seemingly from time immemorial. This was what Klara had trained for: to be the unseen servant, her presence manifesting only in the satisfactory results of her labor. The familiarity of it, the anonymity, was its own sort of armor, a comfort that she wrapped around herself in much the same way as she had wrapped her hands before facing the punching bag.

It wasn't until she had climbed onto one of the dining room chairs to dust the chandelier that Laura Barton intervened.

"You're going to make me look bad."

Klara was so startled she nearly fell off the chair. The pregnant woman stood in the kitchen doorway with a smirk on her lips, a basket of laundry balanced on one hip. Quick as a blink, Klara hopped to the floor and stood with her hands clasped, back straight, and eyes trained on the customary place just beyond the right shoulder.

"I assure you, Lady Barton, that was not my intention."

The other woman's eyebrow rose.

" _Lady_ Barton, huh? I could get used to that, I think. Which means you better just stick to calling me Laura. Klara, right?"

She shifted on her feet, adjusting her grip on the basket of laundry, and Klara stepped forward.

"May I?"

Without waiting for an answer, Klara slipped her hands around the basket and transferred it smoothly to her own hip. Lady Bar... _Laura_ allowed it, shifting on her feet again and brushing a lock of dark hair back from her tanned face.

"Thanks," she said, "But seriously, you've got to stop cleaning my house, or the standards are going to be set unreasonably high."

"You have a lovely home," Klara managed in response, "I apologize if I have interfered in any way."

"Wow, that's impressive," Laura said, still smiling, but now with a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes, "I mean, Clint warned me you were a tough one to read, but I didn't know you could just _'polite'_ your way out of everything. That's quite a talent."

Klara ducked her head and averted her eyes. How much had Clint Barton told his wife exactly? Did she know the unfortunate history they shared? Their...mutual acquaintance?

"Let's take that basket into the front room," Laura said, turning to lead the way, "You can help me fold clothes if you're so intent on staying busy. Much more productive than dusting the light fixtures."

Klara followed obediently, and they sat together on the wide, floral sofa. The afternoon sun filtered in through the picture windows, and Klara could not help but think the next thing she would do would be a washing of the glass—

"So, is that what you did for Loki? Dust light fixtures?"

The name dropped into Klara's heart and cracked, like an ice cube in a warm glass of water, the chill dissolving and spreading through her limbs. She dropped the hand towel she had just picked up and it took a moment or two for her fumbling fingers to recover it.

"I...no. No, nothing like that."

Laura Barton was studying her, but her face held no hostility. She neatly and efficiently folded a wash rag and placed it to the side before she tried again.

"So, what _did_ you do? If you don't mind my asking."

Klara managed to get her breath back and folded her towel, placing it to the side and reaching for another.

"Mostly I brought him things," Klara confessed, keeping her eyes fixed on her task, "Books, bedding, paper, his meals for a time..."

The image of him-so frail, so thin, exhausted beyond recognition-flared to life in Klara's mind as if it had been merely a day ago, not months. Lady Frigga's voice floated up from the past, the whisper of a ghost: _Talk to him, Klara. Just...talk to him._

"...and we talked," Klara said finally. She saw Laura nod, out of the corner of her eye.

"Ah, there it is," the woman said, folding a shirt and setting it aside, "Words are the most dangerous weapons. What did you talk about?"

This seemingly innocuous question gave Klara pause. She rested the shirt she had been folding in her lap and thought for a moment. What _had_ they talked about? How could this woman, with her beautiful home, her loving children, her noble husband, ever understand...?

"We spoke of the stars," Klara said, her gaze softening as she remembered his fingers dancing on the air, painting the forms of planets in swirls of color, "We spoke of the palace. We spoke of his family, though rarely without a quarrel. He would read from his books sometimes when he thought my reaction might prove amusing."

"' _Of shoes and ships and sealing wax,_ '" Laura recited with a small smile, "What did you _really_ talk about?"

Klara hesitated. She would not like the answer. But Klara gave it anyway.

"He helped me discover who I am...and who I would like to be. He taught me my worth before I ever felt worthy of it."

She felt the weight of the pendant around her neck and touched a finger to the metal.

 _Your mother pays me._

 _Not nearly enough._

"In return, I tried to understand him," she said, "I am trying still. And in the end, I fear it was not enough."

She took a shuddering breath and looked up. Laura's smile had blossomed into something lovely and warm, filled with a kindness that Klara did not feel she deserved in the least.

"You're a brave girl," she said, "I told Clint that you were, that there was more to you than he thought. But I don't think he really believed me until now. Whatever happened to you guys out there..." She shook her head. "All I know is, he wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't trust you. He's protective that way."

Klara dipped her head in acknowledgment of this.

"He has much to protect."

As if on cue, one of the children, the boy, rushed into the room and skidded to a halt before them.

"Mom!" he exclaimed, "Dad says he wants Iron Man-"

"Mr. Stark," Laura corrected firmly.

"-Mr. Stark," the boy amended, "to look at the tractor. He says there's something he needs to see in the barn, can we look too?"

" _No_ ," Laura insisted, hauling herself to her feet, "If your father wants Tony Stark to look at our tractor, I imagine he probably thinks he's going to...I don't know, give it x-ray vision, or blow it up, or something. If it's going to blow up, you can watch it from the porch."

"Aw, _Mom_ -"

"The _porch_ , Connor," Laura Barton said, as she headed toward the door.

"Yes, ma'am," the boy said dejectedly, following after her.

Laura rolled her eyes back at Klara with a smile.

"I'll be back."

"I'll just finish up here," Klara said picking up another shirt and folding it neatly.

Laura smiled and walked into the entryway, out of sight. Klara picked up another shirt, but instead of folding it her arms contracted almost on instinct, clutching the sweet-smelling fabric to her aching chest. She shut her eyes and took a series of painful breaths, holding back tears of mixed relief and sorrow.

* * *

Nicholas Fury was not like any man Klara had ever known. With his brusque manner, no-nonsense assessments, and poignant insights, he had managed to take their broken, directionless group and reform it into a working team again in a matter of hours. One with a plan, no less. It was wonderful to watch, awe-inspiring even.

Once dinner was finished Klara tried to help Laura Barton with the cleaning up, but the other woman fussed her straight out of the kitchen.

"You've done enough, Klara," Laura said, still smiling with kindness Klara wasn't sure she had earned, "You should be resting, not doing housework."

Unwilling to argue with her, Klara had yielded. But rather than seek out her bed, or the company of the others, she slipped out of the house and onto the front terrace. She took a seat on the top step and sighed, leaning against the railing and breathing deeply of the sweet, clean air.

The night was warm but not uncomfortably so, the moon a mere sliver of light on the horizon. And above, the sky was filled to bursting with stars. The sight of them nearly took her breath away. She had not realized how much she had missed them until they were there, staring down at her, reminding her forcefully of Asgard, of the sleeping palace corridors, the lights dimmed and the stars a brilliant swathe of silver dust against the deep blue sky. Asgardians held a respect for the stars that Midgardians simply did not share. Perhaps it was because Asgard had touched the stars, and its people knew what it was to look up and see not just light, but life.

 _...even now, there are those who remember...reaching out to the stars...finding another hand reaching back..._

"He's coming back."

Klara blinked and dropped her hand from the chain around her neck, turning toward the unexpected voice. Captain Rogers was leaning in the doorway, his arms folded, watching her.

"Thor," he clarified, coming forward to sit beside her, his eyes trained skyward, "He's coming back. He wouldn't leave you behind."

"Oh," Klara said, tugging at the hem of her borrowed cotton dress, tracing the tiny purple flowers scrolled along the fabric, "Of course. He would not have gone were it not of the utmost importance. He will return when he has the answers he seeks."

"You should wait for him back at the Tower."

She blinked at him, aghast, but he purposely did not meet her gaze.

"But...the girl... Would it not be best if I accompanied you?"

"Seoul is recon only. We just want to see what Ultron's up to." He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the house. "I'd rather you kept an eye on Banner. He's still pretty shaken up."

Klara understood, of course, but a small part of her still tensed at the thought of Captain Rogers-of _anyone_ -encountering the Maximoff girl without her present. The girl's power was catastrophic, and Klara had the uncomfortable suspicion that she had only brushed the surface of what she was capable of.

"You will be careful won't you, Captain?"

The words left her lips without thought, and Captain Rogers turned his gaze on her, the moon casting him in a light that seemed to turn his hair to shining silver.

 _The moon knew not what might was his..._

"Steven."

She blinked, confused. He smiled, and she felt his gaze, like a tingle on her skin.

"On the boat," he said, "When I was... You called me Steven. Not Captain, not Rogers, not even Steve."

She dropped her eyes to her hands, forcing them to smooth at the bunched fabric of her skirt, letting the curtain of her hair fall between them.

"It is your name," she said, "Such things hold power. I thought..."

She paused and swallowed. No. She wouldn't lie to him. The truth was, she hadn't thought at all. She had seen him lying there, lost to them, and she had been so frightened...the name had come to her without bidding.

The curtain of her hair drew back as his fingers tucked it behind her ear. She looked up. He was still smiling, but there was a question in it, a tentativeness that was so rare in his expression...

"It was nice," he said, "Coming from you."

Klara's chest constricted. Oh. Oh, how had this happened? How could _this_ man-with his blue eyes, his easy smile, the goodness that permeated every fiber of his being-how could he look at her like this? Like she was not everything that he stood against, like she had not failed them, like...like the past had been buried. And the dead were gone. And there was more to life than guilt and grief. Could she...? Was there a life like that for her? Beyond Asgard? Beyond her past? Beyond the secret that she still carried within her, the secret that Elli had buried with her mother?

Beyond Loki?

She searched those beautiful eyes, looking for an answer, but it did not reside there. The answer was only within her, and she had not yet discovered it. But she _wanted_ it. Right now, in this moment, she wanted what his eyes promised her might lay _beyond_...

"Steven," she said, softly, as if testing the sound on her tongue.

His smile brightened. And Klara's world warmed in its light.

* * *

 **A/N:** Welcome to The Farm! Where we believe in angst, on top of angst, sprinkled with angst, and angst icing! We hope you've enjoyed your stay, it only gets worse from here! :'D


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry this is late, I was on vacation and I lost track of my days! Hopefully, there's enough in this chapter to make up for it ;) Enjoy!

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

"You have your own quinjet?"

Nick Fury turned and raised his only eyebrow at Alice.

"How did you think I got here? Magic?"

Alice rolled her eyes as he led the way up the ramp and into the bay of the parked jet. It was an older model, and she could see scratches and dings both outside and inside the hull.

"You should take better care of your ride, Nicky," Alice said, running her fingers over a blast mark on one of the struts.

"It gets me from A to B," he said, putting a hand on the headrest of the worn pilot's seat, "And that's the last time you get to call me 'Nicky'. Have a seat, Ms. Ripley."

Alice eyed the seat, then the spy dubiously. "Seriously?"

"I know it's not what you're used to. But-" He shrugged. "-call it a learning experience."

Alice felt uncomfortably like she was being tested in a subject before she'd even taken the class. But she slid into the seat anyway and examined the controls. They weren't all that different from the simulations she'd trained on before Clint had let her take out the real deal. Without really thinking, she went ahead and initiated the launch sequence. There was a slight rattle as the engines hummed to life and she adjusted down a notch to make things a little more smooth. She glanced up. Fury was watching her with an intensity that was uncanny for a man with only one eye. He gave her a nod.

"Take us out, Ms. Ripley."

Alice raised her eyebrows then shrugged, turning to glance back into the bay.

"Everybody locked in back there?"

Bruce and Klara smiled from their seats, though they both looked a little uneasy. Alice flipped the switch to lift the ramp, and it shuddered before the hydraulics kicked in with a hiss. She raised another eyebrow at Nick. He gave her the most deadpan expression Alice had ever seen in her life, which made her laugh.

"Alright people, let's blow this popsicle stand!"

She took hold of the stick and eased up. Despite the rough start, the engines were responsive once they were in the air. Alice made a small adjustment to her grip, compensating for the wider handling, and then pulled up above the trees. She saw the other quinjet lift off just behind them, and she waggled her wings a little bit, a pilot's farewell Clint had taught her. The others waved back, and Alice smiled as she pressed a cloaking button that looked aftermarket but serviceable. There was a whoosh of vibrating metal that ran the length of the ship, and Alice rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Nicky, a little basic maintenance-"

"Nick."

She looked up at him and smiled sweetly, ignoring the dour look on his face.

"Did you ever meet Agent Thompson?"

Fury blinked, then gradually his expression relaxed into a feral smirk.

"No. But I read his report."

Alice's grin widened and she turned back to the controls.

"Strap yourself in, _Nicky_ ," she said, "Let's see what this bird can do."

Turned out, Nick Fury's bucket of bolts still had a little zip to her. The early afternoon sun was still sparkling off the windows of Avengers Tower when they circled in, Alice just managing to squeeze the larger jet into the hangar without adding any more scratches to her exterior. She cycled the engines down but kept them running for a fast takeoff, flipping the switch to open the back. Maria Hill was already waiting, dressed in her old SHIELD uniform and looking fairly pleased with herself.

"How'd she do, boss?" she asked, ducking inside and nodding to Bruce and Klara as they unstrapped from their seats.

"Not bad," Fury said, extending his hand to Maria, "She's not you, but she might do alright."

"Glad to hear it."

"So, you wanna watch the overhang on the way out," Alice said, unstrapping from the pilot's seat, "I don't think you'll have any issues, but-"

"Dr. Banner, I was wondering if I might borrow your girlfriend."

Both Alice and Bruce froze mid-stride and turned.

" _No-_ " Bruce said, at the same time Alice was asking, " _Why?_ "

"Because you're a decent-ass pilot," Fury said, ignoring Bruce's response entirely, "And where we're going, we can use all the decent-ass pilots we can get."

"And where's _that_ , exactly?" Bruce asked, stepping back into the jet and looking just this side of venomous. Nick Fury did not seem cowed in the slightest.

"Where we're needed."

"That's not good enough."

"Bruce-" Alice reached for his elbow, but he jerked back, almost in fear, clamping his arms around his chest and glowering at Fury and Hill in turn. Alice retracted her hand but didn't step back. "-I'm not going to do you any good here. I'm not going to do _anyone_ any good."

He gave her a meaningful glance, then turned and stalked down the ramp into the hangar. Alice followed him, glancing over her shoulder at Fury, who gave her a patient nod and turned into a quiet conversation with Maria.

"I don't like this," Bruce muttered, turning to face her, his arms still crossed, "Last time I let them take you off where I couldn't see you-"

"I know," Alice said, stepping forward, reaching up to cup his elbows, hating the way he flinched when she touched him, "I know. But this is different."

"How?"

"I'm going of my own free will, for one thing."

Bruce gave her a look that effectively conveyed he was not amused.

"And I know a little better what I'm getting into," she said, a little more gently, "I'm not the same girl you found crying in the Takeri's store."

He sighed and shut his eyes, leaning forward until their foreheads touched.

"I know," he whispered, though it sounded like it pained him, "I know you're not. That's my fault too."

"No," Alice said, brushing a thumb under his eye so he would look at her again, "Bruce, no. If I didn't want this, if I wasn't happy, I wouldn't have stayed. The only thing you're responsible for is encouraging me to help people. That's not a fault."

Bruce searched her eyes for several seconds.

"You really want to go?"

Alice smiled. "I do. I really do."

Bruce let out a huff of frustration. Then he lifted his head and looked over her shoulder, back toward Nick in the quinjet.

"You'll keep her safe?"

Nick nodded once. "You have my word, doctor."

Bruce grinned but it was ironic. "You've given me that before."

"And I kept it too," Fury said, never breaking his expression, "She's here, isn't she?"

Bruce let out a breath through his nose as if he had run out of air with which to protest. He took Alice's face in his hands, searching her face one last time before he leaned forward and kissed her, soft, gentle, like he was memorizing every nuance.

"Be safe," he whispered.

"Ms. Ripley?" Fury called from the jet, "We're on a bit of a tight schedule here."

"Coming!" Alice said, pressing another quick kiss to Bruce's lips, "I'll call when I can."

She passed Klara as she jogged back to the ramp and tossed the girl a cheery wave. "Keep an eye on him for me, Klara! Stay out of trouble!"

"I shall," the girl said, "Be careful, Alice!"

She looked back over her shoulder, watching as the ramp closed, taking Bruce and Klara out of sight. She let them go and allowed her curiosity to get the better of her.

"So," she said, sliding back into the pilot's seat, "Do we have coordinates or is this a "second star to the right" kind of flight?"

"Your coordinates are already plugged in," Fury said, tapping a few numbers on a keypad. The screen flashed red, then green, with the words _'Theta Protocol Initiated'_. "All you need to do is fly."

Alice put her hands on the stick and settled in.

"I can do that."

* * *

Klara spent the next several hours doing little but watch Dr. Banner flit about his laboratory, moving small objects from table to table, opening and closing files seemingly at random, picking things up and putting them down again. By the time Clint Barton arrived at the Tower, Klara was almost as on edge as the doctor, and they both jumped at the sound of his voice over the sound system.

"Anybody home? I've got a box to deliver and it ain't flowers."

Dr. Banner fumbled and nearly dropped his electronic pad before he found the correct button to respond.

"We're here," he said, glancing at Klara, "Klara and I are here."

"Well get ready, Doc, I think this one's a special order just for you," Clint Barton said, "Better bring some wheels."

"Copy that."

They met the quinjet in the hangar just as the engines were cycling down. The back ramp lowered and Klara straightened, hands clasped behind her in a flicker of memory, the Einherjar returning from battle...but her heart dropped to her stomach when only one soldier disembarked, looking distinctly unhappy.

"Have you guys heard anything from Nat?" Clint Barton asked, a hint of urgency in his tone.

"No, why?" Dr. Banner asked as he pushed the loading trolley up the ramp and positioned it below the large metal box in the quinjet's cargo bay.

"The bastard got her," Barton said through gritted teeth as he helped load the box onto the trolley, "Pulled her right out of the jet before I could even-" He slammed a fist onto the metal lid with a force that made Klara jump. "Damn it, I _had_ her!"

"Hey," Dr. Banner looked as if he might touch the archer's arm, but then thought better of it. "Natasha's smart. No way some hunk of metal is going to take her down. She'll turn up."

"Where is Captain Rogers?" Klara asked, unable to ignore the knot in her stomach any longer. She could not lose another...not another...

"Last I saw he was dealing with some collateral damage in Seoul," Clint Barton said, then looked up and seemed to really _see_ her for a moment, his expression softening slightly, "I'm sure he's fine."

Klara swallowed a breath and tried to take control of her features again, bending to look through the window on top of the metal container. The light was dim but she could distinctly make out a face in the gloom.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The body Ultron was trying to make for himself out of the vibranium he stole," Barton said, shoving the container more firmly onto the trolley.

"From what it looks like here, they were able to achieve cellular cohesion," Dr. Banner said, making a few taps on the digital display, "Helen Cho is a genius."

"Where do you want it, Doc?"

"Oh, the lab," Dr. Banner said, blinking and stepping back, "We'll need to hook it up to the mainframe, see how much work we have to do to dismantle it and if any of the vibranium can be salvaged."

They had just gotten the container down the ramp and were heading back into the building when the sound of repulsors fired in the hangar, and Tony Stark came to rest beside them, stepping out of his armor with the ease of long practice and sending the empty suit speeding off with a wave of his hand.

"What do we have, Doctor?" he asked, with the air of someone trying to make a jest, but it fell flat on Klara's ears.

"Clint's brought us the Cradle from Seoul, we were about to hook it up and see what's cooking."

"Alright, ready for the world's worst game of Operation," Stark said, hurrying along beside them as Clint Barton shoved the trolley into the building and toward the laboratory, "I need some coffee."

"I was going to make tea," Klara said, "But I believe I can operate the coffee machine if you prefer."

"You're a doll," Tony Stark said, leaning down to peck a kiss to her forehead, "Black as you can get it is best."

"I will see what I can do," Klara said, working hard not to let him see how the unexpected affection had rattled her, "Clint Barton? Would you like anything?"

He blinked and the scowl on his face softened again.

"No," he said, "No, I'm good."

With a quick dip of a curtsy, Klara broke off from the group and headed for the kitchen, eager to feel of some use at last. She knew little of Midgardian science or technology, but she had at least learned how to brew coffee in her time at the Tower. It took only a few minutes to arm herself with a tray of three mugs, two with tea and one with coffee so black it seemed to suck in the light. She carefully made her way back down to Dr. Banner's laboratory but paused as the glass door slid open and she heard the tail end of what sounded like an argument.

"You have to trust me," Stark insisted.

"Kinda don't," Dr. Banner quipped, fiddling uneasily with his glasses.

"Our ally?" Stark said, pulling out the small device he kept in his pocket, "The guy protecting the military's nuclear codes? I found him."

He flicked the device and a hologram of swirling code filled the middle of the room.

"Hello, Dr. Banner."

Klara gasped and nearly dropped the tray she was holding. The two men turned to her in surprise, but she didn't even care.

"JARVIS!" she exclaimed in delight, setting her tray down on the nearest table and rushing forward to greet the friend they had once thought lost, "Oh, it's so lovely to hear your voice!"

"Likewise, Mistress Klara."

"Well, I guess the genie's out of that bottle," Mr. Stark said, pocketing his device once more.

"However did you manage to rebuild him?" Klara asked, passing her hand carefully over the rippling hologram in wonder.

"I didn't," Stark said, "He was still there, just scattered, buried in the internet underground. He didn't even know he was there until I pieced him together."

"So, you want me to, what?" Dr. Banner asked, gesturing at the metal container in the center of the room with a sort of frustrated helplessness, "Help you put JARVIS into this thing?"

"No, of course not," Stark countered, " _I_ want to help _you_ put JARVIS into this thing. We're out of my field here, buddy. You know bio-organics better than anyone."

"And you just _assume_ that JARVIS' operational matrix can beat Ultron's?"

"JARVIS has been beating him from the inside without knowing it," Stark insisted, "Ultron didn't go after JARVIS because he was angry. He attacked him because he was _scared_. Of what he can do."

"No!" Dr. Banner exclaimed, ruffling his hair, "I can't believe this, I'm in a loop! I am caught in a time loop, this is _exactly_ where it all went wrong!"

The two men continued to argue, but something... _flickered_ , causing their words to fall away, to become muffled as if heard through a wall, and Klara's full attention suddenly rested upon the container, the thing they had called the Cradle. There was another flicker, and Klara moved toward it, stepping through JARVIS and reaching out a hand, bringing it to rest softly on the metal hull.

"There is something here."

The arguing stopped. She put her other hand on the lid and shut her eyes. It felt...like the girl. Like the Maximoff girl, the way her magic had not fled but had _struggled_. She could feel that same power here, sliding over her hands, her arms, trying to find purchase, a chink in her armor. Tentatively, Klara pushed back. It was like pressing against the skin of a bubble. It gave but did not retreat.

"Magic," she said, still probing, but not deeply, "Like nothing I've ever known."

She opened her eyes. The two men were staring at her.

"Magic is a weapon," she said, "It can be used for good or for ill. It all depends on the hands that wield it." She looked back over her shoulder, at the golden orb that encompassed the essence of what had proven to be a dear friend. "And I have never felt safer than in the capable hands of JARVIS."

She looked at Dr. Banner, straight into his dark, still-conflicted eyes.

"What do you need?"

* * *

The building Alice landed the quinjet on was perhaps the most nondescript building she had ever seen. It was gray, and blocky, and smack dab in the middle of nowhere, as far as Alice could tell. They were _probably_ somewhere in the Midwest, but her coordinates hadn't exactly come with road signs. She set down and cycled the engines (there was a weird squeal in the right wing that she didn't like at all) as Fury and Maria lowered the back ramp.

"Welcome back, sir," Alice heard a man say as she was going through her final check and unstrapping from the pilot's seat, "How was your flight?"

"Fast and efficient," Fury said, and Alice allowed herself a small grin, "I assume you've gotten control of your... _situation_."

"It's taken care of. Mostly."

Alice spun around and hopped out of her chair, striding out of the quinjet while simultaneously trying not to seem too eager. The man Fury was speaking to was almost as nondescript as the building, dressed in a black suit and tie that reminded her fondly of Agent Thompson, the agent who had taken charge of her during the Chitauri invasion. This agent (because he had to be an agent of something, no one else would dress like that) gave her a bland smile that revealed nothing and then turned back to Fury.

"You got the Hulk's girlfriend?" He sounded impressed.

"She's a good pilot," Fury said, turning to Alice, "Ms. Ripley, I'd like you to meet Phil Coulson, Director of SHIELD."

Alice took the man's outstretched hand before she had properly processed all of the words in that sentence.

"Wait, _Coulson_?" She glanced between the current and former Directors for a minute, who both looked entirely too pleased with themselves. "What is up with all the _dead people_ popping up lately? Dead people, directing dead organizations, with a lot of dead or dying tech." She glanced back at the old quinjet. "Seriously, has that poor bird ever even had an oil change?"

"I've been on the run," Fury said, finally sounding a little defensive, "And, you know, _dead_. It's hard to find a good mechanic under those conditions."

They were all headed toward what looked like a maintenance entrance, where Coulson swiped a badge and inputted a code. The door opened on a small room that contained only an elevator door. More codes were punched into the keypad and they all piled into the elevator together.

"So, how'd you pull it off?" Alice asked, turning to Coulson, "I mean, Nicky paid some people to fake his surgery-"

"Nicky?" Phil asked, leaning forward to give Fury a raised eyebrow.

"It's _not_ an approved moniker."

"-but how exactly do you fake being stabbed through the chest with an alien spear?" Alice continued, ignoring the blatant hint.

"You don't," Coulson said, again with that bland smile Alice felt she could come to hate, "It's a long story."

"Oh, I would _love_ to hear that one," Alice said, "Along with about six other people I could name just off the top of my head-"

"This is top secret information, Ms. Ripley," Fury said, leveling her with what Alice imagined to be his most intimidating stare, "Director Coulson's current status with SHIELD is a matter of the utmost delicacy, considering the situations he and his team handle on a regular basis. I am trusting to your discretion. Is that understood?"

All three agents were staring at her now, and for the first time, Alice remembered that she wasn't dealing with regular people. These were highly trained government agents, tasked with keeping the world safe from things that most people didn't even know existed. And they were all willing to go to extraordinary lengths to keep doing their job. Alice straightened a little bit under the scrutiny.

"Yes, sir," she said, without even a hint of irony. She was rewarded with only a small smile from Maria.

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator doors opened onto a long hallway containing only a small, round man in a business suit wearing a professional grin and a triangular card around his neck.

"Director Fury," he said happily, sticking out his hand, "Welcome back, sir! And Agent Hill, what a pleasant surprise!"

"Agent Koenig," Maria said, her smile widening a little.

"And this must be Alice Ripley," the man said, extending his hand with a grin, "I've read your file, of course, very impressive!"

Alice raised an eyebrow and glanced at Fury as she took the other man's hand.

"Um, thanks, I guess. I'm not sure what's so impressive, but-"

"Oh, lanyards!" Agent Koenig exclaimed, pulling a tangle of triangular cards out of his pocket, "I'm not sure I have all the right clearances, things being what they are, but-"

"Koenig," Fury said, his voice stern, but almost what Alice might have called affectionate, "We're initiating Theta Protocol. Immediately."

The little man's demeanor changed instantly, his grin morphing into a business-like expression.

"Of course, sir. This way."

He passed out the lanyards, and then led the way down the hallway to the single door at the far end.

"After you, sir," he said, extending a hand to the former director of SHIELD.

Nick took a step and swiped his lanyard card over the security pad with the confidence of practiced hands.

"Miss Ripley," Nick Fury said as the door swung open, "Welcome to Theta Protocol."

Alice stared for a solid five seconds.

"...holy shit."

* * *

"This framework is _not_ compatible."

"The genetic coding tower's at ninety-seven percent. You have _got_ to upload that schematic in the next three minutes."

Klara plugged in the last of the cables and sat back on her heels for a moment, surveying the work. As she stood, her hand rested on the Cradle, but the magic seemed to have quieted for now. She turned to Dr. Banner, ready for whatever came next-

"I'm gonna say this once-"

Klara's heart leapt as she spun toward the voice, but then faltered when she saw who stood in Captain Rogers' shadow.

"How about 'nonce'?" Tony Stark quipped, but the Captain ignored him.

"Shut it down!"

"Nope, not gonna happen."

"You don't know what you're doing!"

"Steven?" Klara asked, taking a slow, tentative step, her hand outstretched defensively, "What are they doing here?"

The Maximoff girl flinched as if the mere sound of Klara's voice caused her pain. Klara stopped moving forward but did not lower her hand.

"Trying to do the right thing," Steven said, "Same as us."

"And how do we know _that_ , exactly?" Dr. Banner snapped, moving to stand beside Klara, "How do we know she's not messing with your head?"

"I know you're angry-" the girl began.

"Oh, we are _way_ past that," Dr. Banner snarled, "I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade."

Klara's other hand reached out to clasp his wrist, as much in comfort as a precaution. This girl would not have him. Not again.

"Banner, after everything that's happened-" Steven tried, and Klara felt the doctor tense.

"That's nothing compared to what's coming!" Stark shouted.

Klara tried to move back, to pull the doctor away from the fighting and angry voices. If he lost his tenuous control here it wouldn't matter who was right or wrong, they would all be in danger. And as much as she wanted to put her hands on Steven Rogers, to break whatever hold the girl might have on him, he was not currently the most dangerous thing in the room.

She had barely managed a few steps when sparks flew in a blur of motion, and the boy, the brother, stood in the opposite corner, holding the ripped remains of the cable Klara had just meticulously placed.

"No, no, go on," he said, tossing the cable aside, "You were saying?"

A gunshot and the sound of breaking glass made Klara drop to a crouch on instinct, but the glass that shattered was from under the boy's feet as he dropped out of sight with a crash.

"Pietro!" the girl screamed.

"What?" Clint Barton's voice sounded from below, "You didn't see that coming?"

"I'm rerouting the upload!" Tony Stark shouted and Dr. Banner pulled free of Klara's grasp, moving toward the girl faster than Klara might have thought possible. Steven's shield went flying through the air, slamming into the sensitive laboratory equipment. Klara shot to her feet and rushed toward him, her hand outstretched.

"Steven, stop this!"

His blue eyes widened, and then suddenly she was on the floor, his body covering hers as a repulsor blast ripped through the glass behind them.

"Stark!" he shouted angrily, directing his fury at the man who had aimed the blast, but Klara gripped his arm to stop him, pulling herself upright.

"No, I'm alright," she said and saw Stark over his shoulder, his expression of horror cracking with relief. She met Steven's eyes. "Please, dearest, this isn't what you-"

A crackling boom rattled the Tower, and Lord Thor appeared as if from the air itself, landing atop the Cradle with Mjolnir lifted high. Lightning pulsed and then streamed down as he slammed the hammer to the surface with a powerful clang. Klara turned her face into Steven's shoulder to shield against the blinding flash. There was a muffled silence, and then an explosion that washed over Klara with the same force she had felt when she'd touched the Cradle, a power that could not penetrate but streamed over her like a viscous fluid. She shuddered and turned to see-

A man crouched on what remained of the Cradle, a man like nothing Klara had ever seen before. He gleamed in the moonlight filtering through the windows, and his movements were slow, deliberate, as he unraveled to his full height and looked about. His eyes fixed on Klara for a brief moment, and Steven's arm tightened around her, but as quickly as his focus had come it moved on. Klara could _feel_ it move, like a sliding sheet of cool metal over her skin.

His eyes fixed instead on Lord Thor, and without warning or hesitation, he lunged. Klara lurched forward, held back only by Steven's arm about her.

" _Thor!_ "

But the prince was quick and clever, using the force of the creature's lunge to fling him up and over his head, through the glass wall behind him to the floor below. But it did not hit the solid floor, instead flailing to a halt just short of the outer windows, hovering and staring out at the city beyond. Klara threw off Steven's arm and ran to the prince, who clasped her shoulder and pushed her back behind him, his eyes still fixed on the hovering entity in the moonlight. He was clothed now, in a shimmering green and gold that set off the mauve of his skin. He floated down to them, settling in front of Lord Thor and looking at him curiously.

"I'm sorry, that was...odd. Thank you."

Hearing the voice of JARVIS from the lips of this being was equal parts frightening and comforting. Klara felt a knot of unease in her chest. Whatever they had done, it had succeeded. Now they could only hope that they had been right.

* * *

The sun was rising over the New York City skyline before Bruce finally managed to get away for a few minutes. They would be going soon, the others were already gathering in the hangar, but...he needed to do this. It might be the last time.

He stood on the balcony outside the lounge and stared at the phone in his hand for several moments before he finally worked up the courage to dial. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, honey!" Alice chirped. She sounded so happy. Bruce closed his eyes and tried to memorize the sound. "I heard about Seoul, is everyone okay?"

He took a breath to brace himself before he answered.

"We don't know yet," he said, pleased that his voice didn't shake, "He got Natasha."

"Oh my god," Alice said, her voice dropping, "Is she-?"

"She's alive," he said, "He's waiting for us. Back in Sokovia."

"Bastard," she muttered under her breath, and Bruce couldn't help but smile. "Are you okay? If you guys need me, I can grab the jet and be there-"

"No," he said, gripping the balcony railing to keep from shaking, "No, I'm...we're okay. We'll be alright."

The balcony door opened and Bruce turned, hoping his expression wouldn't give him away.

"That Alice?" Tony asked, and before Bruce could answer, he raised his voice to speak into the phone, "Hey Baby Bird, stay in the nest, we got this one!"

"That's _so_ not my codename," Alice grumbled with a begrudging fondness.

"Pretty sure she's giving you the finger long distance," Bruce relayed to him, but Tony only grinned as if this were a compliment, "I'll be down in a minute."

Tony nodded and popped back out again. There was a moment of silence on the line, and Bruce reached into his pocket, pulling out the picture, Klara's Valentine gift. He'd made a habit of keeping it on him so it was worn now, a fold mark splitting the scene right down the middle. Right between them.

"Alice," he said finally, "I don't know what you're doing out there, but just...promise me you'll be careful."

"Can you promise me the same thing?"

The response was quick and decisive. She'd been expecting this. Bruce sighed, smoothing his thumb over the image of her hair, imagining the feel of it.

"You know that I can't."

There was another pause.

"Yeah," she said, "Neither can I."

Bruce clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to respond, to insist, to _beg_. Because he was painfully aware of the fact that he had absolutely no control over what Alice did. Especially now.

"I love you, Bruce Banner." He shut his eyes. The words were like a stab to his chest. "I can promise you that with all my heart."

"I love you too," he said because it was the reason he'd called in the first place, the most important thing, "No matter what, Alice. I will _always_ love you."

And before she could ask what he meant, Bruce hung up the phone. He walked back inside and stared at the blank screen in his palm for a long minute. Then he set it carefully on the table and went to join the others.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Ultron knows we're coming. Odds are we'll be riding into heavy fire, and that's what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia, they didn't. So our priority is getting them out."

Klara sat quietly within the quinjet as Steven addressed the team, staring at her hands instead of looking at him. He hadn't wanted her to come. He had nearly insisted. If it hadn't been for Lord Thor's intervention she would most likely be back at Avengers Tower. She knew he was still angry at her for siding with Tony Stark, though he had not said as much.

"All they want is to live their lives in peace," he said, "And that's not going to happen today. But we can do our best to protect them. Klara-" She looked up, startled, but his expression gave no indication of his emotional state. "-I want you working with the Maximoffs on the evacuation. They know the city better than any of us."

Klara glanced at the twins, huddled together in a far corner of the bay. They looked distinctly uncomfortable with this arrangement. The girl especially, Wanda, was eying Klara with the same uneasiness that Klara felt herself. Though they appeared to have thrown off the yolk of their most recent oppressor, she still did not entirely trust these children. But the condition of Klara's inclusion here had been a promise of complete obedience, so she merely nodded acknowledgment of Steven's command.

"Barton, Banner, your job is to find Romanov," Steven said, turning back to the team, "Get her to safety. Banner, we'll let you know when you're cleared for Code Green, so keep your ears on."

The doctor nodded but did not lift his eyes. He had been pensive since they'd taken flight. Klara suspected he was worried about Alice. They had not heard from her since she had gone with Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

"Ultron thinks we're monsters," Steven met Klara's eyes for a brief moment and she thought she read something there that was perhaps not anger after all. "That we're what's wrong with the world. This isn't just about beating him. It's about whether he's right."

Dr. Banner clenched his fists briefly and rose to move toward the front of the jet, where Clint Barton was piloting them ever closer to Sokovia. Klara clenched her own hands in her lap, feeling lost. Should she go to him, or-

"Your power-" Klara jumped. Wanda had moved without her realizing it, now sitting with only one seat between them, watching her clasped hands with a mixture of caution and curiosity. "-where does it come from?"

Klara blinked, then looked down at her hands, unclasping them and examining the palms and fingertips as if they themselves held the answers.

"My mother."

It was the first time she had ever said it aloud, the first time she had ever acknowledged the truth of it. An invisible weight seemed to lift as the words escaped her.

"What is she like?" the girl asked.

Klara looked up to answer and caught Lord Thor's eye across the bay. He glanced away quickly, as if only in passing, but Klara knew better. She had served the prince faithfully and his expressions were often transparent to all who had a mind to see. He had heard her confession. But this knowledge did not frighten her as much as she had thought it might.

"I do not know," she said, turning back to the girl, "I never knew her. But I think she was strong. I hope to have her strength someday."

The girl smiled, a small, timid thing and Klara caught her own lips mimicking the gesture. She did not meet Lord Thor's eyes again.

They landed in the forest outside of Novi Grad just as the sun was reaching its zenith and disembarked, Clint Barton and Dr. Banner hurrying off with barely a word, headed in the direction of the castle overlooking the city. Klara moved to join the twins, who looked eager to be off, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"Klara."

She stopped, surprised to hear not anger but concern in Captain Rogers' voice. When he appeared to be at a loss for more words, Klara tentatively covered his hand with her own.

"Be careful, Steven."

He blinked in surprise, then smiled sheepishly.

"Funny, I was just about to tell you the same thing."

He seemed about to say something else, but then changed his mind and simply squeezed her arm before releasing her.

"We haven't got much time," he said, with a tinge of regret that Klara felt resonate in her soul, "Get as many people out as you can."

She nodded and turned to hurry toward the twins.

"I'll run ahead and inform the authorities," the boy said, "They're mostly useless, but maybe they can help."

"We'll follow you," Miss Maximoff agreed, and he was gone in a blur of gray. Klara exchanged a glance with his sister, and then they started after him, toward the city.

* * *

Bruce was surprised at how easy it was to get inside the castle. Surprised in a way that made him jumpy and on edge. Clint seemed about as willing to accept their good luck as Bruce was, with his bow out and arrow to the stringhe, peering into every shadow as if Ultron was waiting to jump out and shout "Boo!"

Bruce had hoped to speak to Tony before they got to Sokovia, but he hadn't had the chance. Which meant the conversation he needed to have with Clint was going to be that much more difficult. But he didn't have a choice. Clint was one of the few people Alice trusted. He _had_ to do this.

"Hey, Clint?"

"Yeah, man." The answer was distracted, but it would have to do.

"You and Alice are friends, right?"

"Sure," the archer said, glancing around a corner before moving forward, "She's a good kid."

"I mean...if something happened, you'd make sure that she-?"

"Nat!" Clint hissed into the dark before he took off down the stairs.

They seemed to have stumbled into some kind of makeshift dungeon/workshop, like something Tony might have constructed if he lived in a medieval castle. And in the gloom of one of the cells-turned-workspaces, Bruce saw the flash of bright red hair.

"You boys took your sweet-ass time," Natasha grumbled as they rushed down the stairs, "I don't suppose either of you found a key laying around here someplace?"

"I've got something," Clint said, switching arrowheads and pulling a new shaft, setting it to the string, "Better stand clear."

Nat ducked out of the way and Bruce took a few steps back as the archer released the arrow straight into the keyhole. It exploded with a small pop of fire and smoke, and Clint shoved the now mangled gate aside, grabbing Nat up into a fierce, one-armed hug.

"The team's in the city, it's about to light up," he said as he set her back onto her feet.

"What's our play?" Nat asked, turning to Bruce, "Big Green ready to redeem himself to the world?"

"First things first, let's get you out of here," Clint said, "Once we get back up top, we can-"

"I'm not coming with you."

The two ex-spies turned to stare at Bruce. He swallowed and forced himself to keep talking.

"I... I can't be in a fight with civilians," he said, "You guys can help with the evacuation, but...I think it's time I take myself out of the picture. Past time, actually."

Clint's eyes narrowed.

"So that stuff you were saying. About Alice."

Bruce dropped his gaze. "I just... I just needed to know that _someone_ -"

A rumble shook the ground beneath their feet and knocked several pieces of equipment over with a crash. Dust drifted from the ceiling as the stones shifted.

"We gotta move," Bruce said, pressing his fingers to a growing crack in the wall, "This building won't hold under that kind of strain for very long."

Clint shoved past him up the stairs, Natasha following a little less forcefully, but giving Bruce a frown all the same. Bruce ran after them, ducking debris as they fled, turning corners and mounting stairs with increasingly unstable foundations. At the top of a particularly unsettling flight of steps, Nat suddenly whirled on him, causing him to stumble back.

"You know, I get it," she said, eyes flashing, "What you're doing. I've thought about it myself, more than once: tapping out, finding a nice quiet spot where I couldn't hurt anyone ever again. In fact, if circumstances were different, I might even tag along, start over."

She stepped closer, put a hand on his chest. Bruce held his breath.

"But the job's not finished, Banner," she murmured, "And we need the Other Guy."

Quicker than Bruce could blink, her other hand grabbed him by the back of the collar and she dropped, one leg sweeping out to knock both feet out from under him. He scrambled, grabbing at the empty air...and then he disappeared into a fog of green.

* * *

Klara didn't know how she'd gotten separated from the twins. Between the city ripping itself from the earth and the hordes of metallic minions erupting from every nook and cranny, it had been all she could do to keep the group of panicked Sokovians under her care moving. Not that moving did them much good. They weren't going anywhere if the chatter coming through comms was any indication. But she managed not to let any of that show in her expression as she directed the last citizens of Novi Grad into a large building that looked as if it had once been a shopping facility, shelves of wares and stacks of boxes lining row after row of tiled floor space.

"Steven?" Klara spoke tentatively into her earpiece, "I've sheltered as many people as I can, but I've lost the Maximoff children."

"Where are you?" His voice came back to her over a series of screeches and squeals that made her wince.

"Some sort of grocer's shop on the north edge of the city."

"I'm on my way," he said, over another loud screech and a crash, "Don't move!"

She took a breath and straightened her spine, turning to the huddled people clustered around her.

"Stay here," she commanded, "Help is on the way. We'll be safe, so long as we remain calm and-"

A woman screamed, and Klara whirled to see a trio of the robotic creatures swoop into view, landing on the lawn just beyond the glass doors. They trained their lighted eyes on the building and began to advance. Before Klara could think it through, she grabbed one of the long wooden handles clustered in a bin nearby and ran outside, making sure the door shut firmly behind her. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she was _not_ going to just stand about and let these people come to harm. She widened her stance and tightened her grip.

"You will come no further."

The robots actually paused, as if they had not expected her to show any resistance. But it lasted only a moment. The lead machine launched itself at her with a speed that was frankly terrifying. Klara swung out with a cry and the cloth-covered end of her makeshift staff bashed it in the face, sending it careening back into the others. They all stumbled a step and readied for another assault.

There was a whistle, a thunk, and a small bloom of flame erupted from the eye socket of the right-most machine. It fell with a whine as another arrow zipped through the air, exploding in the chest of the one on the far-left and cracking it in half. The third looked as if it might flee, but was taken by another arrow to the back of the head. Only then did Clint Barton emerge from around the side of the building, his hand to his ear.

"We got the north side covered, Cap," he said, "Hold position."

"Roger that. Thanks, Barton."

The archer dropped his hand and eyed the broken end of the handle still clutched in Klara's hand. He raised an eyebrow.

"Did you just attack an Ultron with a mop?"

"It was nearby," Klara said, sweeping the broken bits of wood and cloth to the side with her foot, "The options were limited."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

He put another arrow to the string of his bow and looked out, past the edge of the city which was now an almost solid cloud bank. Klara stood beside him in silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry I was so hard on you," he said suddenly, "Before."

Klara clasped the handle of the mop behind her, keeping her eyes fixed on the clouds.

"There is no need-"

"No." He cut her off and she glanced up. He was looking at her with a deeply intent expression. "No, there is. We both know I've been treating you like shit. I had my reasons, but that doesn't change the facts. So this is me, owning up to it. I'm sorry, Klara."

Klara let the words hang between them for a moment, searching for the right answer to give him. But finally, she settled on the most simple and elegant response that she knew.

"Thank you."

He nodded and turned back to the horizon. Klara turned away as well, focusing instead on the voices in her earpiece, Steven and Natasha Romanov.

"...people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock-"

"Not 'til everyone's safe."

"Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There's no math there."

"I'm not leaving this rock with _one_ civilian on it."

"I didn't say we should leave."

There was a pause. Klara reached out and took Clint Barton's hand. He was trembling. Klara thought of his children, his beautiful wife. She squeezed his fingers, and he held on tightly.

"There's worse ways to go," Natasha's voice said gently, "Where else am I gonna get a view like this?"

There was a jolt of static, a click, and then a familiar yet unexpected voice.

"Glad you like the view, Romanov. It's about to get better."

There was a roar of engine noise, and Klara exchanged a look of equal confusion with Clint Barton. They ran out from beneath the shop awning and looked down the jagged line of the city. There, emerging from the cloud bank, was a large flat vehicle that Klara had only ever seen in Midgardian news clips. Something that should have no longer existed.

"That sneaky bastard," Clint Barton muttered, "A helicarrier."

As they watched, several smaller vessels detached from the main ship and began to soar across the divide separating them from the city.

"Let's get moving," Clint Barton said, jogging back to the shop and shoving the doors open wide, "Alright people, the cavalry has arrived! Let's move it, come on!"

The Sokovians filed out, following Klara's lead with surprising calm as Clint Barton easily dispatched the few bots that attempted to hamper their escape. They met with another larger group, and Klara could see glimpses of Steven's uniform through the crowd, but before she could make her way toward him-

"Klara!"

She turned toward the sound of her name and saw yet another unexpected face.

"Alice?"

She ran toward the girl and found herself caught in an embrace, quick but fierce.

"What are you doing here?" Klara asked as they parted, taking in the girl's black uniform and SHIELD insignia.

"Nick said they needed pilots," Alice said, jerking a thumb back at the boxy vessel that was quickly filling with civilians, "It's not a quinjet, but the controls are easy enough. Where's Bruce? I thought he'd be with you."

"I... I don't know," Klara confessed and cringed at the look of dread that crossed Alice's face, "Clint Barton and Miss Romanov said the Hulk joined the fight when they did. I'm sure he's alright."

There was a crackle on the comm, and Klara touched her earpiece as Lord Thor's voice bellowed in her ear.

"They're coming for the core!"

"Rhodey," Tony Stark said as he blasted by over their heads, "Get the rest of the people on board that carrier."

"On it."

"That's my cue," Alice said, reaching out to squeeze Klara's shoulder, "I'll be back. Find Bruce, time to get off this rock."

Then she was gone, running toward the vessel now filled with innocents waiting to be rescued. Klara watched as the engines cycled, the ramp lifted, and the box floated back toward the helicarrier. Then she turned to survey what was left.

The Avengers were gone, protecting what remained of the city, keeping everything together to give those that remained a fighting chance for escape. And there were still so many waiting, so many to be saved. Klara rolled up her sleeves and plunged into the masses, organizing groups to be taken by the incoming rescue boats. It wasn't as difficult as she might have imagined. The people of Sokovia were a people used to hardship, and they took the direction compliantly. The sounds of battle filled her earpiece, a flurry of sound and static, but finally, one clear voice sounded.

"We gotta move out," Steven said, "Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats, I'll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you."

"The last of the civilians are being loaded on now," Klara said, as another rescue boat detached from the helicarrier and began to make its approach, "I believe we can get everyone on to this last vessel."

"Good," Steven said, "Think you can manage a lullaby, Klara?"

"Tell me where he is," Klara said, handing a bag to a small woman and sending her to stand with the last group of Sokovians.

"Last I saw he was tearing apart some playground equipment on the east side."

"As soon as someone comes to direct these people, I'll-"

"We're here."

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov slid to a stop in a car that looked as if it had seen better days and hopped out together.

"We got this," Clint Barton said, taking another bag from her hands and slinging it over his shoulder, "Go get the Big Guy."

Klara nodded and took off to the east at a run.

* * *

Alice made contact with Novi Grad and slammed the rescue boat into hover-mode, anchoring the ramp to the rock before she unhooked her harness and scrambled out of the cockpit. The last of the Sokovians were already loading in, and she had to press against the flow to finally gain the ground, but when she looked around she didn't see Klara or Bruce anywhere.

"Alice!"

Clint jogged up to her with an old bag slung over his shoulder that he passed off to an older man as he climbed the ramp into the boat.

"Where's Klara and Bruce?" Alice demanded, "She was supposed to bring him, where are they?"

"She just took off to find him," Clint said and grabbed her arm when she moved to push past him, "You can't go, Alice, you know that."

"But they might need me!"

"That's probably more true than you know," Clint said, and Alice didn't like the way he said that, "But these people need you too. Let Klara do her job, and you do yours."

She wanted to fight him. She wanted to rip her arm out of his grip and take off running, to find Bruce and drag him onto the damn boat herself. But...a young woman held the arm of an old man as he tottered up the ramp. A teenage boy held the bags of two women as they clung to each other. A boy shuffled past, clutching a stuffed dog to his chest as if it were the most precious thing on earth. A boy that could have been Jacob, once upon a time.

Clint was right. This boat, these _people_ , were her job. And they needed her. A woman started crying out for her brother, and Clint gave her arm a reassuring squeeze before he went back to find him. Alice moved to help the teen boy with his bags, but she glanced back once more over her shoulder. The quinjet rose up into the sky and started turning in midair, unsteady as if whoever was at the controls wasn't quite used to them. Alice furrowed her brow and touched her earpiece.

"Hey, guys? Who's flying the jet?"

* * *

Klara approached the raging Hulk with the confidence of long practice. This was something she could do. This was something she was meant for.

"Hello, my friend."

He turned and roared in her direction, but Klara did not waver. He took a step back and snorted.

"You've done such good here today," she said, "But the air grows scant, and time grows short."

She crouched to the ground, pressing one hand to the earth, the other outstretched. Hulk took another step back and bared his teeth.

 _"_ So should the lines of life that life repair,

Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,

Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,

Can make you live your self in eyes of men."

He sniffed but did not retreat again. Instead, he took a single, hesitant step forward. Klara smiled.

"To give away yourself, keeps yourself still, _"_ He took another step, shook his head, reached out his hand. "And you must live, drawn by your own sweet—-"

The sounds of gunfire were followed by explosions of dirt and grass so close that Klara jerked back, throwing up a hand to shield her eyes. There was a roar of anger, of pain, and she was knocked back with a glancing blow that took her breath away. She landed with her leg twisted awkwardly beneath her, something in her ankle cracked, and pain blossomed like a brilliant flower. She cried out-

Light erupted seemingly from the very earth itself, flaring outward into a dome of shimmering greens and golds. A figure knelt on the ground before her, thin and lanky, dark hair smoothed back from pale skin, sharp profile furrowed in concentration, long-fingered hands gripping the staff planted in the earth.

The All-Father staff.

In _impossible_ hands.

"...Loki?"

He turned only slightly toward her, fixing her with one brilliant eye, and his lips widened into a mischievous smirk that struck Klara with a pain more present and devastating than any injury.

He turned and stood in one fluid motion, facing the Hulk beyond the shimmering dome, roaring in a frenzy of frustrated rage and confusion.

"Go," he commanded, the voice of a prince, "On what little honor I still possess, the girl is safe with me."

He lifted the scepter of his father and pointed it past the Hulk's shoulder, to the quinjet streaking away across the sky.

"Tear them to shreds."

The Hulk hesitated for only a second. Then he snarled and leapt into the air, bounding over crumpled buildings and disappearing from sight.

Loki sagged and dropped back to one knee, supporting his weight on the staff.

"You...still make everything... _infinitely_ more difficult," he whispered, a touch of humor coloring his voice.

Klara felt every word, every _syllable,_ like a hot needle piercing her over and over. She tried to get up, to move toward him, but her ankle would not support her weight and she fell, gasping as the pain shot up her leg to mingle with the pain in her chest. The dome wavered, fell away, and suddenly he was there, hovering over her, his expression a rapidly shifting contortion that Klara could barely read: sorrow, fear, regret, rage. She reached for him with a trembling hand, as she had done in so many of her nightmares, needing to touch, to _prove_ that he was real, that she _wasn't_ dreaming, that he was truly-

"Klara!"

Loki pulled back, rolled to his feet, the staff gripped in both hands once more. Determination now was fixed upon his face.

"Forgive me, dearest."

The staff struck the earth, and Klara surged forward, ignoring the pain, desperate for-

"No, wait! _Please_!"

The burst of light nearly blinded her, and by the time she was able to look again, he was gone.

"Klara," Steven dropped to one knee beside her, hands hovering over her but not touching, hesitant. "Klara, look at me, what happened?"

She blinked in surprise, her eyes finding his, worried, frightened.

"Klara, that light...what did you see?"

Her eyes drifted back, back to the place he... _it_ had been, where _it_ had knelt in the dirt.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, "I don't know what it was."

"We have to get you out of here. Can you walk?"

She blinked again and tried to focus, separating her pain into categories she could manage.

"Something is wrong with my ankle," she said, "If you could just-oh!"

Instead of helping her to her feet, as she had expected, Steven scooped her into his arms as if she were no more than a child. She clung to his neck and found a strange comfort in knowing he was...real. She buried her face in his shoulder and held back her tears as he ran.

* * *

Alice paced the edge of the ramp, frantically scanning the horizon for any signs. Where were they?!

"Number Four Boat, are you secure?"

Alice growled and put her hand to her ear.

"When I'm secure, Klein, you'll know it, stop bothering me!"

"Altitude has reached 18,000 feet and-"

"Screw the damn altitude, I've still got people on this rock!"

"Agent Ripley," That was Fury's stern voice in her ear now. "You are ordered to make your boat secure and return to base ship immediately. Is that understood?"

"But I-"

"Is that _understood_ , Agent?"

She sucked in a frustrated breath and turned to _really_ give the "Director" a piece of her mind... A group of three kids were huddled together around a stack of bags, watching her with wide, fearful eyes. She let out her breath and took in another one.

"Damn it, Nick, _yes_ , understood. Making the boat secure now, give me..."

She trailed off as she turned to press the manual lift button for the ramp. There was a figure jogging across the deserted lawn of the shopping outlet, carrying something in his arms.

"I've got last minute incoming, give me fifteen seconds!" Alice said, and then promptly ignored the angry orders that flooded her earpiece, running out to meet Steve carrying Klara in his arms.

"God, you guys took your sweet-ass time!" she exclaimed, "Where's Bruce? Nick's on my ass to get this box back home."

"Then lock it down and head out," Steve said, as he mounted the ramp and set Klara gently on the floor, "The air's too thin up here for civilians, I'm surprised you're still standing."

"Not without Bruce, where is he?" Alice asked, looking at Klara. The girl would not meet her eyes "Klara, _where is he?_ "

"He... We were attacked," Klara said, "I couldn't stop him, he went after the jet-"

There was a boom and a whoosh as the city dropped out from under them like the stone that it was. The boat lurched and Alice faltered on the edge of the ramp. She heard Klara scream-

" _Alice!_ "

Steve grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her inside, slamming his other fist into the manual lift button. The ramp shuddered and then closed behind her.

"Emergency Boat Four, do you copy?" Klein squeaked in her ear, "Emergency Boat Four, come in!"

"We're here," Alice said, running a shaking hand through her hair, "We're okay."

Another muffled boom and a rumble of static through her earpiecethat made her wince. The boat rocked a little side-to-side, despite the stabilizers Alice had left on.

"Novi Grad is neutralized," Fury said somberly, "Repeat, threat is neutralized. Agent Ripley?"

"Yes, sir," Alice answered through the spreading numbness she was trying to fight back.

"Do you have Klara on board with you?"

Alice furrowed her brow and glanced at Klara, who looked just as confused as she felt. "Yes, sir?"

"Bring her in. We have contact with the quinjet, but it's been cloaked. We're not sure how long we'll be able to hold communications open."

The jet... _Bruce..._

"On our way," Alice answered, and launched herself toward the cockpit.

The little bit of distance they had to cross to get to the helicarrier felt like an ocean. Alice tried not to rush docking procedures, but even she had to admit it was rougher than usual. The clamps finally latched, the ramp lowered, and she tossed off her harness, scrambling over the seat to get to the door. She raced past Klara, who still sat on the floor with Steve by her side, examining her ankle.

"I'll meet you guys in the control room!" she shouted over her shoulder, not waiting for an answer. She couldn't wait. Bruce was out there.

She wove through the helicarrier personnel, parting the SHIELD agents like water, never once breaking stride until she slammed through to the bridge.

"Where is he?" she asked, making a beeline for the head of communications, a small, curly-headed man with a round face and wide, nervous eyes, "Klein, where's the jet?"

"Um, I, uh..." He turned back to his console, tapping frantically on the buttons. "Where's, um, the girl, Klara?"

"She's coming, but she's hurt, we need to establish a line of communication," Alice said, surprised at how quickly this BS line came to her. All she wanted was to see Bruce, to know that he was okay.

"Right, uh, well, the jet is cloaked, but still in range, we can-"

A picture sprang to life on his console. It was the inside of the quinjet, looking back from the flight console. The pilot's seat had been ripped out, leaving the view to the back of the jet open, and there sat the Hulk, crouched down in the hangar compartment, hunched in to make himself fit.

"Can he hear me?" she asked, her voice shaking only a little bit.

Klein handed her his headset and got out of his chair. Alice put the set on her head, adjusting the mouthpiece, trying to think of something to say.

"Hey, Big Guy."

He grunted and turned toward her. His expression wasn't violent, only confused. Alice smiled.

"I heard about what happened. With Klara. She's fine, I want you to know that."

The Hulk moved forward, maneuvering his bulk so that it fit in the cockpit, his face close to the screen, watching her.

"Listen," she said, "I know, we haven't really gotten a chance to talk much. But I know that you care about Bruce as much as I do. And that you know how much I love him." Her voice cracked and she swallowed, trying to regain some control. "So I need you to do me a favor, okay? I need you to turn this bird around, can you do that? Please, I just... We can't track you in stealth mode. So we need-"

The screen went blank. Alice stared at it for a second, then looked up at Klein, a knot of panic rising up her throat.

"What happened?"

"He...cut the communication line," Klein said softly.

"Well, get it back!" Alice snapped, shooting to her feet so quickly that the chair clattered to the floor, "Flip a switch, find the signal, _get him back!_ "

"I can't," Klein squeaked, "He's out of range."

Alice stared at the blank screen, remembering the look on his face: the sad eyes, the determined expression. She took in a breath because she knew she had to, and slowly, carefully, handed the headset back to the communications officer.

"Thank you, Agent Klein."

Then before he could reply (or she could lose her tenuous grip), Alice turned and walked out of the control room, ignoring Klara and Steve when she passed them at the door, taking out her earpiece so she didn't have to hear Fury's voice in her ear, ignoring the other agents that watched her as she passed. She walked, calmly, steadily, until she reached the hangar deck. But there was nothing here for her. Nothing but boxy rescue boats, confused civilians, and haggard personnel that didn't look particularly prepared for the influx of an entire city's population.

"Alice?"

She turned toward Clint's voice. He was dirty and bloody and he carried the pain of loss on him. The Maximoff boy, Pietro, had sacrificed his life to save Clint. But even with that grief weighing down his shoulders, Clint took one look at Alice's face and opened his arms without a hint of hesitation.

"I know," he said as he hugged her close, and she started sobbing, "I know."

* * *

The Hulk stared at the little screen for a long while, his brow furrowed. He didn't know why the Other One had wanted to turn it off. Only that he was angry and sad and in pain. These were all the things that made him, so Hulk did not question them. But the blankness of the screen bothered him. He fumbled in a pocket with fingers that were too large and finally managed to pull out the picture that the Other One had taken such care with. The girl. The girl with the big eyes and the sad smile, the girl the Other One had tried so hard to protect above all things.

He put the picture over the blank screen and sat back, studying the girl's face. They would go to a new place now, with new faces. But Hulk knew, no matter where they went or how many faces they saw, the girl's face would stay with them. Some faces were special like that. Her face was special.

 _...you know how much I love him...please..._

There was a flash of pain...and then silence. For the first time in a long time, Hulk knew he was alone.

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh god, that was so painful...and of course, I can't leave you guys hanging on that for a whole week, with only one chapter left! So, (as is becoming traditional with me) the FINAL CHAPTER of "Good Intentions" is available TODAY! Dry your tears, my darlings, and read on...


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Epilogue**

 _One month later..._

Alice ran her fingers along the smooth tiled wall, her reflection looking back at her in the black sheen. It was a nice parting gift, this place: practical, elegant, functional, everything the new Avengers would need. Tony had done a good job.

"I've got something for you."

She rolled her eyes and turned to face Nick Fury. He handed her a tablet with a heat sensor map already pulled up on the screen, ripples of blue and green and yellow.

"One of our tech boys flagged this, splashed down in the Banda Sea." Nick shrugged. "Could be the quinjet. But with Stark's stealth tech, we still can't track the damn thing."

Alice felt her heart traveling up her throat and swallowed it back down.

"Right," she said, tracing the vaguely jet-shaped outline with her fingers, "Right."

"Probably jumped out and swam to Fiji," Nick said, almost sympathetically, "He'll send a postcard."

"Wish you were here," Alice muttered bitterly, "Hope he finds what he's looking for."

"What are _you_ looking for, Miss Ripley?" Nick asked, eying her shrewdly, "What do you think you're gonna find in Malibu?"

"Nothing," Alice said, "But a girl's gotta have a job, and Pepper offered me one."

"You really think you belong at a desk?"

Alice sighed. This was an old argument, one she and Nick had been having for almost a month now. Nick started ticking off the highlights on his fingers.

"Clint's retired. Tony's tapping out. The New Avengers could really use a good pilot."

"Sam's a good pilot," Alice said, "Steve can fly decent enough. Hell, Rhodey's a colonel in the Air Force, if he can't fly I don't know who can."

"You are a part of this team-"

"Yeah, well, nothing lasts forever."

She handed back his tablet with a pointed force. Fury smirked a little as he took it.

"Trouble, Miss Ripley," he said, "No matter who stays or who goes, _trouble_ always comes back around. You can't escape that, no matter how far you run."

 _...no matter how far or how long you run, you will always be the woman who helped make my life worth living..._

Alice clenched her jaw and made an effort to match his smirk. "If you think I'm trying to escape trouble, Nicky, then you don't know me at all."

Nick sighed and shook his head. Then, to Alice's surprise, he stuck out his hand.

"The offer stands, Miss Ripley," he said, as she reached out and took it, "You will always have a place with us."

"I hate to break up this competing job offer-" Tony said, sauntering in and deliberately pushing himself between them, breaking off the handshake, "-but I really don't. You ready, Baby Bird? Jet's waiting."

"Yeah," Alice said, looping her arm with Tony's, "I'm ready."

They turned to go, but Alice could feel Nick Fury's eye on her long after they were out of sight. She squeezed Tony's arm a little more tightly.

"Are we really sure about this?" she asked, "I mean, Nick's right about one thing, I've never been a desk jockey."

"I never said you were," Tony agreed, "Pepper doesn't think so either. Did you even _read_ the contract you signed?"

"Um, kind of?" Alice admitted, "There were a lot of big words, and I just sort of figured Pepper wouldn't let you screw me over."

"I'm touched by your faith in me," Tony drawled, pulling his sunglasses down to give her a snarky look, "Really. It's heartwarming. But you probably should have read the contract."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "What? Is there an indentured servitude clause hidden in the fine print? Do you now own my eternal soul?"

"We're putting you to work with the Stark Relief Foundation," Tony said, stopping to dig around in his pocket, "Independent contractor. Kind of a make-your-own-hours, choose-your-own-patients, travel gig. You even get company transport!"

He pulled out a key fob and pressed it into her palm, closing her fingers over it.

"We pay your room and board, medical supplies wherever you set up shop," he said, looking at her intently over the tops of his glasses, "But you choose, Alice. You can pick _anywhere_ you want to go. And now—-" He glanced back the way they had come, back toward Fury...and the tablet he'd shown her. "-I'm pretty sure you have a good idea where to start."

" _...crash landed somewhere over the Banda Sea...could be the quinjet..."_

Tony was watching her, Alice realized, watching the comprehension slowly write itself all over her face, the enormity of what he was offering. When it was clear that she had a full grasp of the situation, Tony grinned and lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her closed fingers.

"Bring our boy home, Alice."

Then he winked and sauntered off, hands shoved in his pockets and whistling tunelessly without another glance back. Barely daring to breathe, Alice opened her fingers. A strange, yet incredibly familiar key fob was nestled in the palm of her hand. Before she could think, or plan, or question, she turned in the opposite direction and started running.

* * *

Klara stood on the lawn of the New Avengers facility and shut her eyes, letting the sun warm her face, the breeze ruffle her hair, breathing in deep of the fresh, green smell that was so quintessentially Midgardian.

 _You're home, Klara...if you wanna be._

What was that Midgardian saying? _'Home is where the heart is.'_ Was Klara's heart destined always to be torn in two? Between what had been, and what could be?

 _No knowledge she had where her home should be..._

She determinedly shook away _that_ voice, the whisper in her head. Loki was dead. Lord Thor had held him in his arms as he died. She had mourned his loss, had experienced pain and grief beyond anything she had ever known. He was _dead_ , and he wasn't coming back. So then why...?

 _On what little honor I still possess, the girl is safe with me._

Who would send such an apparition? Why were they protecting her, if that was indeed what they had been doing? How would they have even known that she needed protecting? If someone was watching her...was that even possible? Heimdall himself could not see her. Who would have Sight more powerful than the Watcher of Worlds? And why would they send... _him_ , why take _that_ form?

 _For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings..._

There were too many questions, questions that Klara's heart would not allow to rest.

She heard approaching voices and opened her eyes, settling her shoulders and clasping her hands behind her, preparing.

"...once all these pieces are in position-"

"-triple Yahtzee?" That was Tony Stark, along with Lord Thor, and...

"You think you can find out what's coming?"

Klara stiffened as the three men rounded the corner, stepping into the sunlight: Lord Thor, Tony Stark, and Steven Rogers. They had not yet seen her, but they would. They would all see her.

"I do," Lord Thor assured the captain, putting a companionable hand on Mr. Stark's shoulder, "Besides _this_ one, there is nothing that can't be explained." He turned his grin to Klara. "Are you ready?"

Klara's heart lodged in her throat. They were all looking at her now, and Klara could not meet their eyes. She dropped her gaze to the ground and swallowed. She should have said something before, but...she had been afraid. Afraid that her courage would fail her, as it was failing her now. Her choice was clear, her mind made up, but...oh, how unfair it all was, how cruel...

"You're going back."

She blinked and looked up, startled. Captain Rogers had moved forward without her realizing, and she could see a shimmer of regret in the blue of his eyes that she could not soothe.

"I have to," she confessed, and to her surprise, he nodded.

"I know," he said, resigned, "I know you...saw something, in Novi Grad. Something you don't want to talk about."

 _Forgive me, dearest..._

Klara's throat closed up and she blinked back the threat of tears. Steven's smile was soft and sad as he reached out to touch her elbow. Klara's hands unclasped almost of their own accord, allowing him to draw one toward him, passing his thumb gently over the skin of her knuckles.

"Do what you need to do, Klara," he said, "But when you're done...I want you to know that you can always come back."

He reached up and brushed a loose curl back from her face, his fingertips lingering against the skin of her cheek, just briefly, like the flutter of wings.

"You can always come home."

Home...

 _...come home, Loki... Promise me..._

 _I swear to you when all is done...I will return to Asgard._

The one lie Loki had told her, like a stab of ice to her heart. But... _was_ it a lie? Loki was dead, her mind knew this, but her heart... If she did not go, if she did not see for herself, her heart would never be whole. She would never be home.

She rose up onto her toes and pressed her lips to the captain's cheek.

"Fare you well, Steven Rogers," she whispered, "May the Norns see fit to weave our threads together again."

She squeezed his hand and then slipped out of his grasp before her resolve faltered. Lord Thor was waiting patiently, her small satchel already slung over his shoulder. He clasped her shoulder and met her eyes with perfect seriousness.

"Are you certain?"

Klara shut her eyes.

 _Forgive me, dearest..._ His voice still whispered in her ear, like a breath, like a song.

Her eyes opened.

"Yes. I'm ready."

Lord Thor smiled.

"Then hold on."

She wrapped her arms about him and held on tightly, bracing herself. Her eyes fixed on Steven, and his blue eyes were the last things she saw before light, color, and then darkness swallowed her whole.

 _...forgive me, dearest._

* * *

"That guy has no regard for lawn maintenance."

Steve couldn't help but smile as Tony kicked at the burned symbols in the grass, the only sign of the Bifrost and the departed Asgardians. The tightness in his chest loosened a little.

"I'll miss him though," Tony said, eying Steve as they meandered toward the service road, "And she's gonna miss you, and you're gonna miss me, there's gonna be a lot of tears cried into pillows tonight."

Steve's smile widened.

"I _will_ miss you, Tony," he said, sincerely. He would miss this part anyway, this incessant need to fix, to make things better, to care so much and not know where to put it except into a joke, a laugh. He would miss _this_ Tony Stark.

"Yeah?" Tony said, sounding incredulous as his car came around the corner, "Well, I-"

An alarm started blaring within the compound, followed by the sound of hissing hydraulics as the underground launch bay opened. Steve tensed and lifted his hand to his ear, ready to make a dash for- And then he noticed Tony. Standing there. With his hands in his pockets, absolutely no expression on his face as one of their brand new quinjets slowly rose into the air, cloaking the second it cleared the launch doors.

"Tony?" Steve asked, with a resigned sort of sigh, "Why is one of my quinjets making an unscheduled departure in stealth mode?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, Captain," Tony said, as the shimmering mass rose further into the sky, "It would be a breach of a Stark Industries employee contract. I'm gonna need a court order if you want that kind of information."

"We _need_ those quinjets," Steve said, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"I'll build you another one."

"You just built _that_ one!"

"I'll put a rush on it," Tony assured him, shading his eyes as the engines ramped up to full power, "You'll thank me later."

Steve shook his head helplessly. "We'll see, I guess."

In rush of wind and a flash of light the shimmering mass that had been the quinjet was gone. Tony smiled.

"Yeah. I guess we will."

* * *

Alice set her coordinates and sat back, watching the clouds stream by the cockpit window. She dug into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a worn photograph, unfolding it carefully and pressing it into the space between two control panels. The sun still shone in Bruce's curls, his brow furrowed in concentration, his sleeves rolled up. He was still there. He would _always_ be there. And Alice was going to find him if it was the last thing she did.

She punched the accelerator and shot across the sky.

* * *

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* * *

"Hey! New girl!"

The redhead looked up from beneath the hood of a black SUV, and Sam waved at her, leading Steve across the concrete floor in her direction. She set down her wrench and took off her grease-stained gloves, smoothing a hand over the mess of curls tied in a knot on top of her head. The automotive repair shop in the new Avengers facility was huge and noisy, filled with techs in gray jumpsuits and machinery that defied the logical definition of the word _'automotive'_ , but the new girl hadn't seemed to have any trouble settling in. That was good. Sam had been a little worried about that. The girl had a way with machines, but this...this was a whole new ballgame.

"How's it going?" he asked as they got within speaking distance.

She glanced over her shoulder at the engine of the SUV and shrugged.

"Damn thing's energy efficient as hell, but makes it a pain in the ass to maintenance," she said, "No wonder you guys have so many gadgets and doodads, you must spend all your time in the shop!"

"That's Tony Stark for you," Steve said, his smile earnest, but still tinged with a touch of grief that Sam wasn't sure anyone else could read, "Always finding a way to be a pain in the ass."

"Danielle Cavanaugh, meet Steve Rogers," Sam said, and the girl held out her hand with a professional smile, not the usual expression that most people had when they met Captain America for the first time. But then, she'd already had her celebrity encounter, he supposed. That's why they were here.

"Pleasure, Captain," she said as she took Steve's hand, "Thank you for taking me on."

"I hear you have some special intelligence, Miss Cavanaugh," Steve said, as he shook her hand, "And not just about machines."

Dani's green eyes hardened along with her smile, turning sharp as steel. Or vibranium.

"That's why I'm here," she agreed with a cheeriness that now felt forced, "And Sam has assured me that our... _intentions_ concerning this intelligence are aligned?"

She phrased it as a question, hopeful but also insistent, an ultimatum. Steve's smile never faltered and his own expression took on that earnest determination everyone found so inspiring.

"We just want to talk, Miss Cavanaugh," he said, "He's my friend too."

A little of the tension bled out of the girl's expression and her smile took on a mischievous twinkle.

"Well then," she said, sweeping back her hair and turning to shut the hood of the SUV, "I guess we should get started."

* * *

 **A/N:** That's right, folks! We have set-ups for, not one, not _two_ , but THREE new fics! The first draft of "You Go To My Head" (featuring Danielle "Dani" Cavanaugh, and a very special one-armed PTSD victim) is already finished and just waiting for editing. It should be up in January 2019! I have also started work on "A Friend Indeed", the next step of Alice's adventure (set mostly in a _magical_ place called Kamar-Taj!) and "Realms Apart" the next step in Klara's journey (with a little more insight into what the actual HECK our favorite trickster has been up to!), both of which should be up and running in 2019! There's also a fourth fic (I know, I'm crazy ;P) that I'm working on for the Guardians of the Galaxy (Volumes 1 and 2!) and it should be ready shortly as well.

 _'Why such a long wait?'_ you might ask. Well, along with all of these fics, (as well as eating, sleeping, socializing, and an actual job that pays bills) I also write original fiction and I've fallen woefully behind on that! November is dedicated to my original work (you can find the first book in that series-"Doubt The Stars" by Emily Selleck-on Amazon, or pretty much anywhere you find ebooks), so I won't be able to start editing until December at the earliest. I'm working as fast as I can, I promise! I'm as excited as you guys!

I just want to take a minute to thank all of you for going on this journey with me. I know it might not have been _quite_ what some of you were expecting, but if you've gotten this far, I hope I made it a story worth your time. It was certainly a blast to tell, and your reviews and encouragement were a big part of that. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! And I'll see you all again soon!


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